"He's been a good friend to me--and I wouldn't cause him a moment's trouble.
I'd like to make him happier if I could!" "I don't think that's possible,"-- and her eyes were clouded for a moment with a shadow of melancholy--"You see he has no money, except the little he earns by basket-making, and he's very far from strong.

We must be kind to him, Angus, as long as he needs kindness." Angus agreed, with sundry ways of emphasis that need not here be narrated, as they composed a formula which could not be rendered into set language.

Arriving at the cottage they found the door open, and no one in the kitchen,--but on the table lay two sprigs of sweetbriar.
Angus caught sight of them at once.
"Mary! See! Don't you think he knows ?" She stood hesitating, with a lovely wavering colour in her cheeks.
"Don't you remember," he went on, "you gave me a bit of sweetbriar on the evening of the first day we ever met ?" "I remember!" and her voice was very soft and tremulous.
"I have that piece of sweetbriar still," he said; "I shall never part with it.

And old David must have known all about it!" He took up the little sprays set ready for them, and putting one in his own buttonhole, fastened the other in her bodice with a loving, lingering touch.
"It's a good emblem," he said, kissing her--"Sweet Briar--sweet Love!--not without thorns, which are the safety of the rose!" A slow step sounded on the garden path, and they saw Helmsley approaching, with the tiny "Charlie" running at his heels.

Pausing on the threshold of the open door, he looked at them with a questioning smile.
"Well, did you see the sunset ?" he asked, "Or only each other ?" Mary ran to him, and impulsively threw her arms about his neck.
"Oh David!" she said.