Those which you can see from where you sit are the crimson ones--father's favourites.

I wish you could get out and look at the Virginian creeper--it's lovely just now--quite a blaze of scarlet all over the cottage.

And the Michaelmas daisies are coming on finely." "Michaelmas!" he echoed--"How late in the year it is growing!" "Ay, that's true!" she replied--"Michaelmas means that summer's past." "And it was full summer when I started on my tramp to Cornwall!" he murmured.
"Never mind thinking about that just now," she said quickly--"You mustn't worry your head.

Mr.Bunce says you mustn't on any account worry your head." "Mr.Bunce!" he repeated wearily--"What does Mr.Bunce care ?" "Mr.Bunce _does_ care," averred Mary, warmly--"Mr.Bunce is a very good little man, and he says you are a very gentle patient to deal with.

He's done all he possibly could for you, and he knows you've got no money to pay him, and that I'm a poor woman, too--but he's been in to see you nearly every day--so you must really think well of Mr.Bunce." "I do think well of him--I am most grateful to him," said David humbly--"But all the same it's _you_, Mary! You even got me the attention of Mr.Bunce!" She smiled happily.
"You're feeling better, David!" she declared--"There's a nice bright sparkle in your eyes! I should think you were quite a cheerful old boy when you're well!" This suggestion amused him, and he laughed.
"I have tried to be cheerful in my time,"-- he said--"though I've not had much to be cheerful about." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" she replied!--"Dad used to say that whatever little we had to be thankful for, we ought to make the most of it.