The birds in the maple tree woke Clematis early the next morning.

For a minute she did not know where she was. Then she hopped out of bed and ran to the window.

The sun was up. The birds were singing all about. The smell of clover and sweet grass came to her open window.

There, across the valley, lay the mountains she saw in the evening.

Now they were not blue. She could see the rocks and the bushes, in the morning light. But they were just as lovely as before.

“Oh,” she thought, “some day I’ll go and climb up those mountains.”

Then she washed carefully at the stand by the window, for she remembered what Miss Rose had said.

When she was dressed, she started down stairs. Then she thought again.

“I must help all I can. I guess I’ll make the bed.”

So she drew the clothes neatly over the bed, and smoothed the pillow. Then she went down.

“Good morning, Clematis,” said Mrs. Alder. “I see you get up before breakfast. Did you have a good sleep?”

“Yes’m,” replied Clematis. “Would you like me to help you?”

“No, you had better run out and see what Mr. Alder is doing. You can help me after breakfast.”

So Clematis ran out.

How loud the birds sounded in the clear air. How they chirped and twittered. How sweet the smell of the flowers, and how bright the sun.

“Oh, there’s the little red hen!” she cried. “But she has lost her chickens. Every one is gone.”

There was the little hen, sitting on the ground, near the barn door.

Just then Mr. Alder came out with a pail of milk.

“Oh, Mr. Alder, where have all the chickens gone?” cried Clematis.

He laughed. “Dear me,” he said. “I don’t see them anywhere, do you?”

“No, but they were all here last night.”

“I wonder if the rats caught them.” Mr. Alder looked very sad.

“Oh, dear, if they did, I’ll tell Deborah.”

Clematis looked as if she were ready to cry.

“Don’t cry. I’ll get a fairy to bring them back. You turn around and shut your eyes.”

He turned her around. “Now, are your eyes shut?”

“Yes.”

“Now you must say, ‘Fairy, Fairy, bring back my chicks.’”

“Fairy, Fairy, bring back my chicks,” said Clematis, laughing.

She heard the little red hen clucking behind her. Then she heard the chickens peeping.

“Turn round,” said Mr. Alder.

She opened her eyes; she turned around; and there were the chicks, running about their mother.

She was just going to cry out in surprise, when the hen lifted her wings, and two more ran out from beneath them.

“Oh, I know. She had them under her feathers all the time.”

Clematis laughed and danced about, while the red hen clucked to her chicks and walked off very angry indeed.

Mr. Alder laughed also, and picked up the pail.

“Do you see that patch of raspberries down there, just beyond the hen house?” he asked.

Clematis nodded.

“I think there are some big, late raspberries down there. Would you like to pick a few? You’ll find them good.”

“For me to eat?”

“Yes, eat all you can find. They are good for little city girls.”

“Oh, thank you.” Clematis started toward the patch of raspberries.

Then she stopped.

“I must see Deborah first,” she said. “I wonder if she caught any rats.”

“To be sure, I forgot Deborah. Give her my love.”

Mr. Alder went to separate his milk, while Clematis found Deborah sound asleep on the hay, and ready to visit the raspberry patch.

Soon the bell for breakfast rang, and Clematis ran to the house. Her lips and fingers were red with raspberries, for she had found big ones.

By her plate was her tiny glass, and a pitcher of rich milk. There were corn flakes, and shredded wheat first, and then toast, and bacon, and big baked apples with cream.

Clematis had never really expected to have such things to eat. The stories other little girls had told her, all had seemed like fairy tales.

“Now you can help me a while, if you wish,” said Mrs. Alder, after breakfast. “Can you wash dishes?”

“Oh, yes’m, I can do that all right.”

Clematis looked after Mr. Alder with longing eyes. He was going to feed the pigs. She longed to go too, but she knew she must help all she could.

So she started in on the plates and cups.

The water was hot, and she found it hard work to hold the china. Just as she was lifting a cup, it slipped from her hand.

“Snick.”

“Gracious, what was that?” asked Mrs. Alder. She thought a good deal of her china.

The cup was taken out. A piece was broken from the edge.

“Oh, dear me. I have had those cups for twenty years. I guess I’ll finish the dishes.”

Clematis said nothing, but turned very red. She almost cried, she was so ashamed.

“Well, don’t worry too much about it,” said Mrs. Alder. “You can help me with the beds. I’m sure you can make your bed without doing any harm.”

“Oh, yes’m, I’ve made it already.”

“Made it already? When?”

“Why, when I got up, before breakfast.”

“Mercy! Go right up and pull the clothes back. It must always air for an hour.”

Poor Clematis went up and pulled the clothes back to air.

“How can I help, if every single thing I do is wrong?” Clematis spoke crossly out the window at the robin on the edge of the roof.

Then she felt a crumb in her pocket, and pushed up the screen to throw it out.

Mr. Robin flew away, and Mrs. Alder came in at that moment.

“Dear child, what on earth have you put up that screen for? Do you want to fill the house with flies?”

“No’m, I didn’t know—”

“Oh, well, never mind. You don’t know much, I guess. I promised to take you, and I’ll keep my word, but it’s no use trying to fit city children into real homes.”

Mrs. Alder shut the screen with a bang.

“There now, you run along out doors. I guess you and Mr. Alder will get along all right, but don’t touch anything.”

“Hello, it looks like rain. What’s the trouble, sister?”

Mr. Alder smiled and pinched her cheek, as he met Clematis at the back door.

“I tried to help,” said Clematis, drying her eyes.

“Oh, I see. You didn’t do things quite right, did you? Well, I wouldn’t fret about that. I don’t do things quite right, myself.”

Clematis smiled through her tears.

“Come on now, and help me pick some late peas for dinner. You will like that, I am sure.”

He took her hand, and soon she was happy again.

“There, you picked two quarts, and did it well, too. Now take these up to Mrs. Alder, and tell her you can shell them out, every one, without hurting a thing.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Alder, in the kitchen. “You think you can shell peas, do you? Well, take them out under the maple tree. Then I won’t have the pods all around the kitchen.”

And Clematis proved that she could shell peas, after all.

Mrs. Alder gave her a cookie for her pay, and said she had done very well.

“I guess you’ll get along all right, if you stay out doors,” she said.

“Thanks,” said Clematis, eating the cookie as she went out. She was glad enough to stay out doors.

“I’ll help Mr. Alder all the time,” she said to herself. “I’ll feed the pigs, and the hens, and I guess he’ll be glad I’m here.”