When Mr. Brooks woke in the morning, Clematis was already up. She had washed her face and hands at the spring, near the door, and was sitting on the step.

“Oho, so the little bird woke first, did she?” said Mr. Brooks.

Clematis nodded, and looked up shyly.

“I was thinking about you last night before I went to sleep. Suppose I should keep you with me for a little while. Do you think you would like that?”

“Oh, I would help like anything,” she cried. “You just try me, and see.”

“Well, I will talk to Mr. Alder, and perhaps you can stay for a while, at least.”

So Mr. Brooks talked with Mr. Alder. Then he wrote to Mrs. Snow.

Yes, Clematis might stay a week.

How hard she tried!

“I’ll wash and wipe all the dishes,” she said.

The very first day she broke a cup. Then she cried.

“Dear me, don’t feel bad about that. You are doing the best you can, I know.”

Mr. Brooks laughed, and Clematis smiled again.

“Men don’t care so much about dishes,” she said to herself.

To be sure, Clematis had not learned to do much, but she had learned to do her best.

Mr. Brooks found that she could help in many ways, and she was so anxious to do her best, that he gladly forgave her mistakes.

He made her a little bed in the room upstairs.

At evening, she could hear the wind whispering in the trees, and the little brook that ran down from the spring.

In the morning, she could see the lakes and mountains across the valley, as she sat by her open window, while the birds hopped about on the twigs, and sang their sweetest songs.

Deborah slept each night in a little box close by her bed, and followed her about all day long.

The week passed very quickly. On Friday, Mr. Brooks saw that she was silent and thoughtful.

“I don’t think I can spare you yet,” he said at breakfast. “I must ask Mrs. Snow to let you stay another week, at least.”

Clematis was never so happy. She smiled and hummed a little song all the morning. Now and then she would stop to pat Deborah, who slept by the stove.

“He is going to let me stay another week, Debby!” she would whisper. “Another week, another whole week.”

This week was passing also, when Clematis had a great surprise.

It was a letter from Miss Rose.

“Oh, read it to me, read it to me!” she exclaimed, as she climbed up into Mr. Brooks’s lap.

So he opened the envelope and read:

After he had finished, Clematis was silent for a moment. Then she looked up at him with a happy smile.

“Please read it again,” she said.

So he read it again, while she sat still in his lap.

“Do you think you would really like to stay?” he asked, when he had finished.

Clematis patted his hand, and snuggled her face against his shoulder.

“Can Debby stay, too?” she asked.

“Of course she can. We couldn’t get along without Debby.”

That night Clematis looked out at the golden light, just fading from the mountains.

A star was twinkling in the sky. The brook was bubbling down among the trees, and the wind hummed a little tune in their soft branches.

She was very happy.

“I am going to be happy always now,” she said.