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“That is a long story, Squire,” said Mary; “but this much I may tell you,

“The cockle-shell is father’s flower,
The cowslip here is Robart,
The dingle-bell, I now must tell,
I ‘ve named for Brother Hobart

“And when the flowers have lived their lives
In sunshine and in rain,
And then do fade, why, papa said
He ‘d sure come home again.”

“Oh, that ‘s the idea, is it?” asked the big bluff Squire, forgetting his poetry. “Well, it ‘s a pretty thought, my child, and I think because the flowers are strong and hearty that you may know your father and brothers are the same; and I ‘m sure I hope they ‘ll come back from their voyage safe and sound. I shall come and see you again, little one, and watch the garden grow.” And then he said “gee-up” to his gray mare, and rode away.

The very next day, to Mary’s great surprise and grief; she found the leaves of the dingle-bells curling and beginning to wither.

“Oh, mamma,” she called, “come quick! Something is surely the matter with brother Hobart!”

“The dingle-bells are dying,” said her mother, after looking carefully at the flowers; “but the reason is that the cold winds from the sea swept right over your garden last night, and dingle-bells are delicate flowers and grow best where they are sheltered by the woods. If you had planted them at the side of the house, as I wished you to, the wind would not have killed them.”

Mary did not reply to this, but sat down and began to weep, feeling at the same time that her mother was right and it was her own fault for being so contrary.

While she sat thus the Squire rode up, and called to her

“Fie, Mary, fie! Why do you cry;
And blind your eyes to knowing
How dingle-bells and cockle-shells
And cowslips all are growing?”

“Oh, Squire!” sobbed Mary, “I am in great trouble
“Each dingle-bell I loved so well
Before my eyes is dying,
And much I fear my brother dear
In sickness now is lying!”

“Nonsense!” said the Squire; “because you named the flowers after your brother Hobart is no reason he should be affected by the fading of the dingle-bells. I very much suspect the real reason they are dying is because the cold sea wind caught them last night. Dingle-bells are delicate. If you had scattered the cockle-shells and cowslips all about them, the stronger plants would have protected the weaker; but you see, my girl, you planted the dingle-bells all in a row, and so the wind caught them nicely.”

Again Mary reproached herself for having been contrary and refusing to listen to her mother’s advice; but the Squire’s words comforted her, nevertheless, and made her feel that brother Hobart and the flowers had really nothing to do with each other.

The weather now began to change, and the cold sea winds blew each night over Mary’s garden. She did not know this, for she was always lying snugly tucked up in her bed, and the warm morning sun usually drove away the winds; but her mother knew it, and feared Mary’s garden would suffer.

One day Mary came into the house where her mother was at work and said, gleefully,

“Papa and my brothers will soon be home now.”

“Why do you think so?” asked her mother.

“Because the cockle-shells and cowslips are both fading away and dying, just as the dingle-bells did, and papa said when they faded and withered he and the boys would come back to us.”

Mary’s mother knew that the harsh winds had killed the flowers before their time, but she did not like to disappoint her darling, so she only said, with a sigh,

“I hope you are right, Mary, for we both shall be glad to welcome our dear ones home again.”

But soon afterward the big bluff Squire came riding up, as was his wont, to where Mary stood by her garden, and he at once asked,