roughly challenged, but never in my presence has he been attacked that I
have not uttered my protest against the injustice done him, and thus
striven to repay some small fraction of that great debt of gratitude
which I shall owe to his memory as long as I live.

As the spring grew warmer, my mother rallied wonderfully, and we began to
dare to hope. At last it was decided to move her down to Norwood; she was
wearying for change, and it was thought that the purer air of the country
might aid the system to recover tone and strength. The furniture was
waiting for me to send for it, and it was soon, conveyed to Colby Road;
it only furnished two rooms, but I could easily sleep on the floor, and I
made the two rooms on the ground floor into bedroom and sitting-room for
my dear invalid. One little servant-maid was all our slender resources
could afford, and a very charming one was found for me by Mrs. Scott.
Through the months of hard work and poor living that followed, Mary was
the most thoughtful and most generous of comrades. And, indeed, I have
been very fortunate in my servants, always finding in them willingness to
help, and freely-rendered, ungrudging kindness.

I have just said that I could only furnish two rooms, but on my next
visit to complete all the arrangements for my mother's reception, I found
the bedroom that was to be mine neatly and prettily furnished. The good
fairy was Mrs. Scott, who, learning the "nakedness of the land" from
Mary, had determined that I should not be as uncomfortable as I had
expected.

It was the beginning of May, and the air was soft and bright and warm. We
hired an invalid carriage and drove slowly down to Norwood. My mother
seemed to enjoy the drive, and when we lifted her into the bright cosy
room prepared for her, she was delighted with the change. On the