Violet still had her little school of Narcissa's brothers and sisters; but she was so gentle and patient that study was never very hard to them, though the lessons might be long; and then at recess time the boys would go out and pick cherries, or apples, or plums, from the garden, bring them in on fresh green leaves, and they would all sit in the porch and have a little feast together.

Saturday afternoons they would take a walk in the woods; and Violet taught them how to weave oak leaves into crowns, and to make necklaces out of dandelion stems and lilac flowers, and baskets of rushes.

They always took something home to Narcissa, who could not enjoy long walks because of her lameness. One would pick up a pocket full of checkerberries, and one a handful of the young, spicy leaves; and the prettiest branch of hawthorn, the longest-stemmed violets, the largest-leaved bough of oak, were sure to go home for her.

When it grew late in the year, they had such sport gathering chestnuts, hazelnuts, and shagbarks; the boys climbed the trees, and shook or beat them with long poles, and down the nuts would come rattling by baskets full. These were stored away in the cottage; for they all knew that what Violet kept for them was safe.

When they came near the cottage again after one of these excursions, looking so bright, with their rosy cheeks, and flying hair, and laughing faces, Narcissa's smiling face was always at the window watching, and quickly appeared at the door to welcome them. Sometimes they all went home crowned with autumn leaves, sometimes with woodbine or ground pine, and early in spring with bloodroots, violets, or anemones.

But the prettiest crown, and the rarest flower, and the juiciest bunch of berries were always for Narcissa.

In stormy days, or when the ground was covered with snow, Violet still made the holidays pleasant for her scholars; they would play games and sing in the afternoon. She would teach the girls how to dress their dolls, and the boys how to make pasteboard boxes and kites, and how to put puzzles together. Then at evening they would gather around the fireplace, with Narcissa's great chair in the midst of the circle, and she or Violet would tell stories for hours together.

One of these stories Narcissa liked so much that she wrote it down, and after Violet was dead,—for, like the snowdrops and wild roses, our Violet died at last,—she read it to me. I will try and remember it for you; but first I must tell what sorrow there was in the great house on the hill, and not there only, but among all the poor in the neighborhood, when Violet went to heaven.

Under the elm tree they buried her, beside Mary and Reuben; and the orioles she loved to watch still hatch their young and sing sweet songs above her grave.

Alfred wanted to build a great marble monument over her; for he said the whole world did not contain a better or lovelier woman. But Narcissa said,—

"No; she has built her own monument of good deeds, which will last after marble has mouldered away. Let us cover her grave with her own sweet violets, that whenever we pass we may think of our Violet."

Long afterwards, even to this day, when any who knew her witness a kind action, or meet one with a cheerful, hopeful spirit, and a sunny smile, they say, "It is just like Violet."

So, dear children, let us try to make friends with her fairies, Love and Contentment, and let us remember that whenever the thought of her urges us to be cheerful, contented, and loving, we, too, shall plant a flower on Violet's grave.