"Hello Clover. You're up early." Hamfast closed the garden gate to Number Three as he spied Clover Mugwort ambling up the hill, empty shopping basket over her arm.

"Hmph. Folks is gettin' too lazy these days." Clover frowned.

"What do you mean? I'm headin' out at my usual time for a Mersday. Tis a fair walk to Bywater and I've a lot of work to do at the Sackville-Baggins today."

"Don't know what the world's comin' to. I wanted some bacon and a few other bits but Bill Bracegirdle ain't opened up and there's not a soul at market."

"Nor likely to be, neither. You know they don't start settin' out the stalls till seven o'clock. Most will only just be settin' out from their homes. Tis only half past five."

Hamfast studied his elderly neighbour. Clover had never been one to keep up with the latest styles but he was pretty sure that it had never been the fashion to wear one frock atop another, and she seemed to be sporting an assortment of brightly coloured feathers in her hair. "Tell you what, Clover, why don't you pop in and see Bell? She's just finishin' up first breakfast and I'm sure there'll be tea in the pot and a slice of toast to spare." He held open the gate.

Clover seemed to give the matter some serious consideration. "I don't want to put her to no trouble."

Ham shepherded her toward the door, "Tis no bother. And I happen to know Bell was meanin' to go to market herself today. Mayhap you can walk down together later."

He opened the door and ushered her in, to find Bell at the kitchen sink. Daisy was brushing Marigold's hair and Sam was drying pots. Bell called over her shoulder. "Have ye forgot somethin', Ham love?"

"No lass. I've found somethin', or more proper, someone. Clover here was just comin' back from market."

Bell turned about, with a frown, glancing across at the mantle clock. "From?"

Ham gave her a speaking look. "Aye. Seems Clover forgot they didn't open up 'til later."

To her credit, Bell did not pause, despite noting the feathers in her elderly neighbour's grey hair. "Tis easy done, to lose track of time. Come along in Clover. Have a seat while I finish these breakfast pots. There's tea in the pot. Sam, pour Mistress Mugwort a mug. Tis a long walk to market and back and she'll have a thirst on her."

"I'll be off then, Bell." Hamfast made his escape, certain in the belief that his wife would sort matters.

Daisy was staring at Clover's dress and Bell tapped her on the shoulder as she passed to replace breakfast plates on the shelf. "Don't forget to feed the pig, Daisy."

Daisy leaned in to whisper in her mother's ear while Clover was concentrating upon adding honey to her tea. "She's wearin' two frocks, Ma, and feathers!"

"I know. Off with ye. The slops is ready." She made a point of handing over the bucket. With one more backward glance at the eccentrically dressed Clover, Daisy departed. "Sam, take yer sister out to play. I'll not be needin' ye for ought 'til second breakfast." Once she and Clover were alone, Bell took a seat opposite her neighbour. "That old clock of yours has never told the right time," she observed.

Clover stared into her mug. "Tis not the clock that's the matter, Bell." When she looked up her eyes were brimming with tears. "I just thought four o'clock meant afternoon, it bein' mid summer and bright of a mornin'. I expect everyone's noticed I've been doin' a lot of stuff like that of late."

Bell reached out to take Clover's hand, where it lay, listless, upon the table top. "Not too much, Clove, love." She gave a soft smile. "But ye may want to go home in a bit and take off one of them dresses." Reaching up, she picked half a dozen red and yellow feathers out of her neighbour's hair, laying them gently upon the table.

Clover's eyes widened and she looked down at herself, bursting into tears when she saw her dress. Bell was on her feet at once, rounding the table to sit at her neighbours side and draw her into a hug. "Tis alright, Clove, love. Most of us get a bit forgetful as we get older. Hush now." She rocked Clover until the tears finally ran dry, drawing back to hand over a hanky when the storm was over. "Come on. Ye go and change while I put together second breakfast, then ye can come eat with us and we'll go down to market together."

That evening Bell, Hamfast and Daisy sat around the kitchen table of Number Three. "Did you sort out Clover this mornin'?" Ham asked as he swallowed the last of his bacon sandwich.

Bell shook her head. "I'm thinkin' Clover's gettin' too forgetful to be livin' alone."

"Aye. In the normal way of things her son would have been lookin' after her. But Harry's gone and the rest of her family's in Bree."

Daisy refilled her father's mug with tea. "She once told me she had relatives in the Chubbs, but she didn't say who nor how close."

"She does. I think she's got cousins on her mother's side, away over in Stock." Bell held out her own mug for replenishment and Daisy obliged. "I don't know how close they are, though, and I think there was some sort of fallin' out. I'm not sure they'd take her in, even if she asked."

"What do we do, then?" Daisy asked.

"Seems to me that the first thing is to see if she wants to go to family, and if family will have her," Hamfast replied.

"But what if they don't?" his daughter asked, with some concern.

"Then we become family, as we've always been," Bell replied calmly. "Clover's always been there for me when I needed help. 'Tis time to turn about and be there for her."

Hamfast pursed his lips. "That sounds right, but can you manage, love. I know well enough that the burden will fall most on you, while I'm workin'."

"I'll help," Daisy offered. "I looked after Pansy Goodbody for a while and I've been helpin' out the Widow Rumble with her laundry and stuff for ages."

Bell smiled at her daughter, with some pride. "There'll be no money in it, Daisy lass. I know Butter gives you a penny a week but Clover won't be able to afford that."

Daisy looked affronted. "I don't want her money! Clover Mugwort's been like an aunty to me for as long as I remember. She is family."

"Well said, lass." Hamfast beamed at his eldest daughter. "But first things first, we need to speak to Clover and, mayhap, her family. If they can mend things we should give them the chance to care for their kin."

"I've invited Clover for second breakfast tomorrow. That way at least we'll know she's gettin' a good meal in her at the start of the day," Bell announced. "I'll talk with her after eatin'. Fer the time bein' she knows enough to know that she needs help, and mayhap we can work somethin' out."

The next day dawned sunny and clear and Bell sent Sam around to Clover's as soon as second breakfast was on the table. Hamfast was away with Mister Bilbo to Needlehole in the north of the Shire, so it was a small family who sat down at table. Just Bell, Daisy, Sam and Marigold.

For some minutes there was quiet, as all concentrated upon their sausage and egg, but chewing slowed by the time they switched to bread and jam and the second cup of tea. Bell smiled as Sam reached out to wipe his little sister's sticky mouth. Marigold scowled and tried to pull away, but the lad had her measure and simply followed with his napkin. Bell poured more tea into Clover's cup. "Tis good to share breakfast. I miss havin' a table full."

"Aye. Things have quieted down a bit now the older ones is gone. Them two lads of yours were a rowdy pair when they got goin'. Not that there was any harm in 'em," Clover added quickly.

"Can't say I miss them much," Daisy interjected, a little haughtily.

Bell chuckled, patting her eldest daughter's hand. "Ye just like bein' top of the tree."

Daisy sniffed, the perfect image of her mother. "And what if I do. Tis my turn."

There was a twinkle in Bell's eyes as she replied, "Aye, lass. Just so long as ye remember what it were like to be bottom branch and last in turn, when yer dealin' with the young uns."

Clover grinned at the tween, who appeared to be mulling over that advice. Meanwhile, Bell fetched a wet cloth from the sink and swept in to lay seige to her youngest's face and hands. When Marigold was scrubbed to her liking she shooed her, with Sam, into the back yard to play.

"Daisy, love. Would ye make us a fresh pot of tea?"

"Yes, Ma."

Daisy was becoming quite biddable of late and Bell's eyes narrowed in thought before she turned back to Clover. "I do miss my lads. I expect tis worse for ye, Clover, love. Ye'll be missin' Harry more than ever."

Clover nodded. "Tis supposed to get better with time but it don't seem like three years since he went. Some mornin's I wake up to hammerin' out in the yard and I forget it's not him."

Bell nodded. "If Tom Buckleby is startin' work too early don't be afraid to tell Mister Bilbo. He only let out the workshop again on the understandin' that ye weren't put out by it."

Daisy brought back the big brown teapot and refilled Clover's mug, before topping up her mother's and her own. At a nod from her mother she re-joined them at the table.

Clover added honey. "He don't bother me none. Truth told, other than those times, tis good to hear some life in the place, and Tom does the odd job for me if I ask. He fixed that back door catch the other day and wouldn't take a penny for his efforts."

"Aye. Tom's a nice chap. Not that he's a patch on your lad, Harry, when it comes to carvin'. Harry could carve a rose so fine ye'd want to sniff it." Bell nodded to the mantle, where a little carved wooden box took pride of place beside Mister Bilbo's old clock.

"That were one of the last things Harry ever made. I'm glad it came to you." Clover's eyes misted for a moment and she fished in her apron pocket for a hanky to dab at her eyes, before adding more honey to her cup.

"Hamfast were pleased as can be when he gave it fer my birthday. He ordered it months afore, so Harry could have plenty of time to carve it right. I'll never part with it, because it were a gift from both in a way." Clover reached over to add more honey to her cup and Bell smiled. "Ye'r sure ye want to add more, Clover? That'll be yer third spoonful and ye usually only take one."

"Oh. I'm that forgetful of late." Clover's earnest gaze found compassion in Bell's. "I'm almost afraid of puttin' ought on to cook, for fear I'll forget and burn out the smial."

Bell nodded. "If I'm honest, that's one of the reasons we invited ye fer breakfast." A wave of her hand included Daisy in her statement. "Have ye thought on what to do about it? Tis only natural to become a bit foggy with age but most folk have family around to help."

"My Harry should be here to look after his old Ma." Clover asserted querulously, her gaze suddenly darting about the kitchen. "Where is that lad of mine, anyway?"

Daisy's eyes widened, and Bell patted her daughter's knee beneath the table. "He's gone, Clove. Remember? We lost him in that storm, three year since."

"There I go again. Oh Bell, what am I to do?" Clover dropped her head in her hands and Bell rounded the table to sit at her side, slipping an arm about her trembling shoulders.

"Ye're not alone. Have ye thought of letting family help? Daisy tells me ye've got relatives in the Chubbs."

That had the effect of straightening Clover's spine and setting sparks in her eyes. "I'll not be beholden to Bramble Chubb! I'd rather live 'neath a hedge!"

Bell patted her hand, where it clenched upon the table. "Alright Clove . . . alright. Daisy said as how there may be some trouble there, but I had to ask."

"I'm sorry, Bell. 'tis just that when me and Hamdon moved to the Shire, we asked Bramble if she'd put us up for a while. Just 'til we got on our feet and all. Ham's folk were from Bree, so there was only my side of the family to ask. Bramble said if I was daft enough to marry a lad from Bree, then I should stay in Bree. If it weren't for old Master Gorbadoc's kindness, me and Ham would have been under a hedge, and my little Harry no more than a faunt. Twas the Master of Buckland that put us in Mister Baggin's way, sayin' he had a smial and workshop had just come empty. No. I'd not ask Bramble for aid, had I not a wit left to remember her name."

Daisy's eyes flashed but her mother laid a restraining hand upon her clenched fist.

"We've all said things in anger that we've come to regret later. Have ye and Bramble talked since? Mayhap age has softened her."

Clover's lips thinned. "We aint given each other the time of day and I've not had word of her, or her family, for years."

Bell released her daughter's hand to pat Clover's. "Then mayhap tis time ye tried. Holdin' on to hurts for so long aint good for a body. How's about we send a letter? My Sam could write it for ye. If Bramble's not changed her mind yer no worse off, but mayhap she's thought on it a while and doesn't know how to let ye know she's sorry." When Clover began to waver, she pushed a little harder. "Come on Clove. Ye know me and Daisy will be happy to look after ye, but there's nothin' like family."

Clover sighed. "Alright. Get your Sam to write, but Bramble Chubb always did live up to her name, all tangles and prickles."

-0-

"Mr Frodo, can I ask a favour of you?"

Frodo opened his eyes, shielding them with the book in his hand as he looked up at his young neighbour. He had come into the garden a couple of hours ago, with the intention of reading, but warm sun and the gentle drone of bees had lulled him into a doze. Now he sat up. "Of course you can. Sit down." He waved to a space on his rug and Sam settled down, cross-legged.

"Ma's asked me to write a letter for her and it's important, so I want to make sure I've got it right before we post it." He held out a sheet of his best paper, a birthday present from Frodo last year, upon which was a meticulously penned missive.

"Of course." Frodo accepted the page and began to read, brows rising as he perused. "I had no idea poor Clover was so . . . frail. It's very good of your family to help her. Please let me know if Uncle Bilbo or I can help in any way."

Sam shrugged. "Thank you, sir. Tis only right we look after her. Mistress Mugwort has been aunty to me all my life. Ma says Daisy and her will do the lookin' after if needed, but family would be better."

Frodo nodded. The Brandybucks had been kind to him after his parents died and he was certain that Uncle Saradoc and Aunt Esme loved him, but he had never really felt at home until he came to live with Bilbo. He handed the letter back. "That looks alright to me. You've kept to the point. Where does her sister, Bramble, live?"

"A tidy way. Over the river. Newbury." Sam's voice held all the wonder of one who has never left his home village.

"I know, Newbury." Frodo frowned. "I don't remember a Mistress Bramble, though. There again, I was young, and I would only have known her by a family name."

"It's Chubb."

Frodo's frown deepened. "I knew lots of Chubbs but I still don't remember a Bramble. Still, I don't suppose I met everyone." He nodded toward the letter. "If you address and seal it I can take it down to the post for you later. I'm taking some letters for Bilbo."

Sam grinned. "Would you? Ma gave me coin for the postage and I could do it, but I promised Pa I'd go help him with Widow Rumble's garden this afternoon, so I wouldn't be able to take it until tomorrow. I could give it to you on my way to Mistress Rumble's."

"Of course. I'll drop in on my way home to let you know the cost."

"Thank you, Master Frodo."

When Frodo slipped into Bag End's kitchen he found his uncle beating cake batter. "Ooh! Are we having cake for tea?"

Bilbo's face was serious. "Not us, lad. Heather Twofoot passed away last night. Arty just popped in to let me know. I'm making this for old Daddy Twofoot. You can drop it off and present our condolences when you take the post down to Hobbiton. You know where he lives. It's that big cottage off Market Square, behind the The Ivy Bush."

"I know it. Will he be moving in with family do you think, now that Mistress Twofoot is gone?"

"I don't know. Why? Have you grown tired of your old Uncle Bilbo already? Fancy a move, do you?" Bilbo grinned.

"I could never tire of you, Bilbo." Frodo giggled. "Or at least of your library."

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he began to fold in flour. "Oh, the mercenary nature of tweens," he intoned, in a voice so reminiscent of Dora Baggins that Frodo's giggle escalated into a full-blown laugh.

-0-

Only a week later there was a knock at the back door to Number Three and Clover entered, holding a folded and still sealed letter in her fingers, as though she were expecting it to bite. She held it out to Sam, who was scrubbing potatoes at the table. Belatedly she offered Bell greeting before returning her gaze to the lad. "Can ye read this to me, lad? I can read a bit, but my hand is shakin' so that I don't reckon the words would stay still long enough for me to make 'em out."

Sam rinsed his hands, accepting a towel from his Ma to dry them before opening the letter. The seal was unfamiliar, a tiny periwinkle, but the hand was very fine. He opened it carefully, going to the signature first. "Tis written by a noter but signed by somebody called Mistress Larkspur Banks."

Clover frowned. "I don't know no Larkspur Banks. Oh, don't tell me tis meant for someone else and I've accepted it by mistake. I didn't think to look at the address."

Sam rushed to reassure her at once. "No. I checked before I opened it. It's addressed to you."

"I hope it ain't bad news. Letters is always bad news," Clover muttered, wringing her hands.

Bell steared Clover to a seat at the table and joined her there. "Now, let's not find trouble afore it finds us. Let Sam read it."

Sam cleared his throat and began.

"Dear Aunty Clover,

I do not expect you to know me, but I am Bramble's daughter. Ma passed away ten years ago but she often spoke of her sister, Clover. I was so pleased to receive your letter because I've been trying to trace you for the longest time. I know it will not be a surprise to you if I say that Ma was not the easiest person to get along with, but as she got older she changed, and I know she wanted to tell you how sorry she was for the way she treated you and Uncle Hamdon. I hope you will accept my apologies on her behalf.

As for your question . . . of course you can come and stay with us. We have a nice cottage with plenty of room for one more. There is just Bert and me and our girls, Candy and Mallow. The girls are already excited about their new aunty and have promised to help me decorate your room. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Do you still want to stay with us if your sister is not here?

Please let me know as soon as possible if you want to join our little family and I will send Bert to fetch you. He says that if you just say the word he will come with the pony and cart, for you and whatever things you want to bring.

Please say you will come.

Yours sincerely

Larkspur Banks

(As dictated to Knapweed Noter.)"

Clover's eyes were wide. "She sounds a bit posh, don't she?"

Sam slid the letter across the table to her. "I think that's just the Noter. It's normal for them to tidy it up a bit as they write it down."

Bell beamed at her neighbour. "Although 'tis a shame you won't get to make up with yer sister, it sounds like her daughter is a nice enough lass."

Clover lifted the missive, squinting at it as though not quite believing what Sam had read. "All this time and I never knew I had a niece, nor grand-nieces."

"Mayhap there's even more family you aint heard of. What are ye goin' to do, Clover, love?"

Clover shook her head slowly. "I don't rightly know. Tis a lot to take in. They're family but I've got family here, too." She waved her hand to take in the whole of Number Three.

Bell Gamgee took the letter from Clover's fingers, folding it carefully before handing it back. "I think ye should sleep on it. Sam will write yer letter, whatever yer answer. If ye decide to stay here we will look after ye as one of our own, but just think on the fun ye could have with two little neices." She stood. "Now. Will ye stay to sup with us or would ye like me to send round Daisy, with a plate when 'tis ready?"

-0-

A few days later Daisy Gamgee knocked at the back door to Number Two Bagshot Row, not waiting for a reply before letting herself in. Seeing no-one in the kitchen she made for the door to Clover's little bedroom. "Clover are you in here?"

"What?" came the muffled reply.

"Can I come in?"

"Aye."

Daisy opened the door to enter a darkened room. "Are you poorly, Clover?"

A small lump beneath the bed covers replied, a little grumpily, "No. But I will be if folks keep wakin' me up in the middle of the night." Clover sat up, revealing a scowl and that she was fully dressed. "What's the matter? Is your Ma sick?"

Daisy frowned in confusion. "No. She sent me round to see if you were sick. We were worried when you didn't come for lunch."

"Lunch? Why would we be havin' lunch in the middle of the night?"

So certain did Clover sound that Daisy began to question her own world-view, and was relieved when a tweek of the curtains at the window admitted a beam of bright sunshine. "Tis midday, Clover."

Clover blinked as she processed this piece of unexpected information. "Midday? But we had supper not an hour since."

Daisy sat down upon the edge of the bed, her voice soft. "No Clover. You had second breakfast with us, then came home. You said you were goin' to do some mendin'. Ma weren't too worried when you didn't come for elevenses but she sent me to make sure you were alright when you missed lunch."

Tears began to gather in Clover's brown eyes as she looked down at her crushed skirts. "I've got in a muddle again, haven't I?" Fishing about in her apron pocket she produced a hanky and blew her nose. "Oh, what am I goin' to do?"

Daisy patted her hand. "Tis alright, Clover. There's no real harm done and Ma's set aside some ham and a tomato if you still want lunch."

Clover gave a disconsolate shake of her head. "I don't think I want ought to eat."

"Then why don't I make us a nice pot of tea? You come join me when you've straightened up a bit." Daisy returned to the kitchen. Here, at least, most was in order, although it took her a while to find the tea caddy amongst the newly washed pots on the drainer. By the time she was pouring hot water into the teapot a much tidier Clover appeared, still clutching her hanky.

Daisy stirred the pot as Clover sat at the small table. "I found a couple of scones and some jam in the pantry, so I thought we could have a snack." Daisy had learned well from her mother that folks disinclined to eat could often be tempted if the food was put in front of them. Sure enough, Clover helped herself to a scone and a dollop of jam. Daisy handed over a large mug of tea and took a seat opposite. Lunch was but half an hour ago, but she was a tween, and tweens never turned down food. She salved her conscience by telling herself that she was encouraging Clover, and Ma was going to bring down a strawberry flan later, when she finished her baking.

"Have you thought any more on whether you're goin' to move?" Daisy asked around a mouthful of scone and jam.

Clover frowned. "Move what, lass?"

"Move you. Remember? You've been invited to go live with your niece and her family."

"Niece?" Clover waved a dismissive hand, announcing querrilously, "I can't be expected to keep everythin' straight in my head."

Daisy resisted the urge to sigh, seeing the letter upon the table and sliding it closer. "Larkspur and her lasses are lookin' forward to havin' you."

Clover's confused expression cleared. "They are, aren't they? I was readin' her letter again only this evenin' . . . no . . . this mornin'."

"So, have you decided?"

Clover frowned as she set down her scone. "I don't know. Tis a tidy way to travel alone, and I'm not as young as I was."

Daisy smiled. "But you won't be alone. Larkspur's husband, Bert, will come for you."

"But what if I get there and decide I don't like 'em? What if they don't like me? I won't have no home to come back to and no way of gettin' here if I did."

"I'm sure Mister Bilbo will wait a while afore lettin' out the smial again, if that's what's stoppin' you. Or maybe you could go for a short visit first?" Daisy offered.

"A visit? That could work I suppose. But I don't want to be no trouble to no-one."

"You're never a trouble to us, Clover. You've been an aunty to me for all my life. Tis good to be able to do somethin' for you in return."

Clover smiled for the first time. "There's those who think ye're too big for yer petticoats, Daisy Gamgee, but there's a soft heart under all them frills."

Daisy laughed. "Don't you go tellin' that to all and sundry. Bartimus Brockbank don't need to know he can wrap me round his finger if he's a mind to."

"Lass, he's known that for months. Why do you think he stays around?"

-0-

So it was that a month later Bell Gamgee was helping her neighbour to pack a bag for a visit to her newly discovered family. "Don't ye go worritin' about the smial, Clove. Me and Daisy will run through it after, ye've gone, to make sure the fire's out and the pantry's cleared. And we'll pop in regular to check nothin's gone amiss."

"You're a good neighbour, Bell. I think I've caught all, but it'll be good to know ye're keepin' an eye on things. My head is so muddled of late that I'm likely to leave a crock of milk to go off or a candle burnin'."

There was a loud knock at the front door and Clover flinched. Then she smoothed the skirts of her best frock and went to answer. A round, barrel of a hobbit stood upon the threshold, his broad face wreathed in an equally broad grin. "Are ye Aunty Clover?"

Clover was almost bowled over by the warmth of that smile. "Aye. I suppose I am. Twill take a bit of gettin' used to, but I reckon I must be."

The round hobbit at her door gave a bright laugh. "I'm Bert, Larkspur's husband. But ye know that. Are ye ready fer the off? Only I wanted to get as far as Bywater today, then give old Prancer an overnight rest afore settin off back. I've got a couple of rooms booked at the Green Dragon."

Bell and Clover leaned aside to look around Bert's generous frame. In the lane was a brightly painted cart, drawn by an old, but obviously well cared for, pony. The name "Prancer" may have been appropriate at one time, but it must have been several years in the past, for Prancer was far too round to do any such thing nowadays.

Noting their skeptical faces Bert laughed again. "He's getting' long in the tooth but don't ye worrit, Aunty Clover. He'll get us there . . . and back if ye've a mind fer it. Although I think Larkspur and the bairns would be disappointed if ye decided not to stay." He shrugged. "Still. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, as my Da used to say. Let's get this cart loaded. Have ye lots to take?"

Clover did not have a lot, and it took but minutes to load the small cart. Bell stood by her friend as Bert worked. "Now, don't ye forget to send word of how yer doin'. If ye can't afford a noter, Tom Carter will bring a message, and Mister Bilbo says, if yer still there, he'll pop in to see ye next time he's visitin Brandy Hall."

"Clover! Wait a minute!" Daisy Gamgee came trotting up the lane, hampered in speed by having to hold a large, round tin, level in her hands. When she reached Clover she thrust out the tin. "Me and Buttercup have baked you a cake. Tis hard iced and wrapped so it should be good for the journey as long as you don't open the tin."

Clover passed the tin to Bert, who stowed it with the rest of her meagre baggage. Then she drew Daisy into a tight embrace. "Lass, ye've been as a daughter to me. I'll miss ye." She eyed Bert a little sceptically. "If I decide to stay."

Bert grinned, brown eyes twinkling. "Yer welcome to visit, lass. Ye may have to share a bed with the bairns but we'll fit ye in."

Daisy gave Clover one last squeeze, then stood back. By now all were on the verge of tears, for they suspected it could be their last time together, but it was Bell who grounded them, straightening with a sniff to announce, "Well now. That's enough of the blubberin'. Time ye were on yer way if yer to make it to the Green Dragon afore they stop servin' suppers."

"Right ye are, Mistress. Come on Aunty Clover. Let me help ye onto the cart." Bert held out a strong and work-worn hand in invitation, but Clover waved him away.

"My mind may be foggy, lad, but I can remember how to get onto a cart." She stepped up as spritely as a tween and settled her skirts about her on the cushioned board. "Daisy, thank ye for the cake, and pass my thanks to Butter."

Daisy's bottom lip was quivering too much to speak so she only nodded tightly, and Bell put a comforting arm about her daughter's shoulders.

Bert chuckled softly as he unhitched Prancer, hoisting a heavy tether-weight into the cart. "Don't ye worrit, me and Larkspur will look after Aunty Clover, and the lasses can't wait to climb all over her."

Clover was recovered enough to look scandalised. "Well, I hope they remember I'm an old gammer, not a tree."

Bert only laughed the louder before clucking to his pony. "Come on, Prancer. There's a bag of oats and a warm stable waitin' for ye in Bywater."

Clover did not look back as Tom guided them down the lane, but Bell and Daisy watched until the cart turned the corner at the foot of the hill, where several folk had come to wave her off, and disappeared from view. Bell decided that, if she was any judge of character, Clover would find her welcome with the little Banks family, and Hobbiton would not see her again.

11