The Matron of Hopewood was doing some paperwork when there was a knock on the door, and a little impatiently, she said, "The door is open, come in." The maid, new, again, came in with hasty steps, and said, "The post arrived, Mam, and it seems you've got a fat letter from some island." Feeling intrigued, the Matron said, "Please, leave the mail on my desk, and tell the cook to get the children's afternoon tea ready." The maid's pale face, the color of colorless wheat, twitched, and silently she slipped out of the room dominated by filing cabinets. In impatient anticipation, Matron cut open the envelope, first glancing at the address, perhaps some benevolent and rich mistress wanted to bequeath her money, for the benefit of orphans, or perhaps she wanted an orphan for herself. The matron adjusted her glasses with an irritated movement, and spread open the pages of the letter written in clear handwriting. Slowly the pleasure turned to anger, and then to astonishment.

To the Matron of Hopewood Orphanage, I know that running such an institution can be a time-consuming task these days, but still, I cannot fathom why, after six years, you have not once inquired about your wards after they have left your care.Orphan Mary Vance suffered the most inhuman treatment by the people you sent her to, the girl is fortunately, thank God, alive, but nothing else good can be said. She is a tough act, and a natural worker. After a series of fluctuating events, Mary Vance is now sheltered, and safe, and allowed to be a child, although she is the most unchildlike girl I have ever met, but luckily she seems to have companions, from a good family, who finally correct her flawed beliefs and warped morals. Having examined her papers, I ask you for an account of the Harwood case, and I ask that you send it to me without delay, if for no other reason than that you should be boiled in oil for sheer carelessness! If I don't get a report within two weeks, I swear to you that I will take action.

Cordially, Cornelia Elliot

With nervous gestures Matron dug out of her drawer a very dusty folder with Suzanne Harwood's name on it. And opening it with a shudder of disgust, for poor Harwood had been growing hay in Hopewood graveyard for years. Matron began to reread those torn and stained papers, which were already yellowed. And now in retrospect, she noticed that the orphan Mary Vance, had behaved in an exemplary manner in a surprising situation, and only helped, as every Christian should. So, Matron collected her thoughts, and then she began to draft a letter, the tone of which was officially conciliatory. And inspired, she took two official forms from her drawer and slipped them between the letter.

Una Meredith watched, in silence, as Mary Vance walked the wooded, shadow-dappled paths, and every now and then the girl stooped to examine a plant, and put it in her basket, where there was already quite a heap of them, of various kinds, all useful, for some things not spoken of. But Mary's discoveries, and her grass-cure work, made Great-Aunt Martha's temper tense, and sometimes Faith and Una had heard Martha mutter to herself, as she fed the cream to her cat, "Ungodly things, but what's the alternative, perhaps it's good that someone does something, but it's so unseemly. And poor John doesn't understand any of this, men never do."

So as the weeks went by, Mary's herb collection had grown and nothing had been heard from the Hopewood authorities, Susan Baker had said. For three nights already, Una had watched and listened to Mary's stubborn silence. Then in Rainbow Valley, Nan had remarked, in her lively way, "And Cornelia Elliot, their green house is big, and there's only Mr Elliot, and Mrs Elliot, and everything is in perfect order." Mary's pale face had turned a little red, and she had replied curtly to Nan, "Mrs Elliot, hardly wants my kind, the ladies who run the village never do." Faith exclaimed in her eager way, "Mary, oh Mary, surely you wouldn't be treated so badly, if you got to the Elliots!" Mary Vance, clenched her hands into fists and said quietly, almost in a trembling voice, "Faith, that would be heaven, but there's no need to talk about it. I'm sure there'll be a letter from the authorities soon, so I must enjoy this evening now." A deep silence prevailed after Mary's utterance, and it was broken by the light ringing of a bell from Ingelside's direction.

So one clear afternoon, Una carefully combed her hair and wiped her shoes and walked towards the Four Winds. Little bit later, out of breath from her story, without even glancing at the donuts that were kindly proffered, Una remained silent, and then timidly she fixed the appealing look of her almond-shaped dark blue eyes on Mrs. Elliott, and said, "Oh, you can be so good, and take Mary Vance, to yourself, she is quite unhappy, she sometimes she even cries beside me, thinking of her uncertain future, though she tries hard to hide it, but I notice it. She is so handy and useful in all the household chores!"

Cornelia Elliot felt her heart break, hearing Una Meredith's heartbreaking request, and a little awkwardly she said, "Well honey, take that donut, I baked them yesterday. I have to think, I can't promise anything." With a small smile brightening her pale serious face, Una Meredith, rose and gently embraced, Cornelia Elliot, and whispered in her trembling voice, "Mary has been through so much, and she needs a real family for herself." After Una started to walk back towards the Glen, with the poplar tree shading the reddish road, and the warm wind blowing, Cornelia Elliot looked around her quiet big house, and clasped her work-hardened hands together. And soon Marshall's light whistle echoed down the alley, and he said, "Cornelia, the mail has arrived, and there's a letter for you!"

And a couple of days later, if someone had walked down the road of the Four Winds, and passed Elliot's green house, that person would have noticed that the small neat workshop was being worked on late, the fresh wood smelled, and the light was also burning late in the living room. Cornelia glanced at the letter from the Matron of Hopewood lying on the scrubbed large table, it contained a brief account of the Harwood affair. Cornelia's lips pressed tightly together as she read that paper once more, poor, unfortunate soul. And in front of her was an official form, in the upper corner of which was written in capital letters, OFFICIAL ADOPTION FORM. Marshall's pipe smelled, softly, and he said, "Nell, are you absolutely sure about this?" Cornelia, looked into Marshall's gray eyes, and she said quietly, "You said it yourself, maybe we can be of use to her, do some good. I think, she is what we have been lacking, strange as it is."

And two weeks later great news rocked the village of Glen, as it was revealed that Mrs Marshall Elliott had adopted Mary Vance. No one knew what Mrs. Elliot had said to Mary Vance when that gracious lady had gone to the Manse to talk with Mary, but Una could see what a strong impression that interview, behind closed doors, had made on her. Mary's pale blue eyes almost sparkled, and she did her chores at the Manse even more efficiently than usual, and most carefully, and in the evenings she sewed skillfully, mending her old dresses, smelling of mint and herbs.

Then the day came when Mary wasn't even sleeping next to Una anymore, the attic was bare, and empty, and all of Mary's herbs were packed in large custom-made wooden box, and they were now in Elliot's handsome house. Mary walked with careful steps, along the shiny clean floors, looking around with keen, interested eyes. There were rag-carpets, househould things, and wonderful cabinet full of family silver and cockery. Cornelia, held out her hand and said, "Come on, tea, we usually drink at this time, and tell me, do you like doughnuts?" Marshall glanced at Cornelia, who said gently, "Well, Mary, welcome home." Mary looked up cautiously, her eyes glistening with tears she clearly dared not shed, then slowly, she nodded.