And that's the name for you, Mary, because you're going to serve their senses that travel by hedges and ditches and perhaps have no garden." "Traveller's Joy," said Harry.

"Hooray!" "Hooray!" said Adela, and she waved the Weeding Woman's bonnet.
It was a charming name, but it was too good for me, and I said so.
Arthur jumped on the rockers, and rocked me to stop my talking.

When I was far back, he took the point of my chin in his two hands and lifted up my cheeks to be kissed, saying in his very kindest way, "It's not a bit too good for you--it's you all over." Then he jumped off as suddenly as he had jumped on, and as I went back with a bounce he cried, "Oh, Mary! give me back that letter.

I must put another postscript and another puzzlewig.

'P.P.S .-- Excellent Majesty: Mary will still be our Little Mother on all common occasions, as you wished, but in the Earthly Paradise we call her Traveller's Joy.'".