for a little wrath in his reply would have made her feel more at ease.
With well-reassumed good-humour, she said, "Now you are my nice old
playmate, but never, never bother me that way again."

"Yes, ma'am," said John, laughing. "I can hear Aunt Ann say, 'Run, dears,
and get me flowers--and--there will be cakes for you.'"

"No, bread and apple-butter, John." They went along merry, making believe
to be at ease.

"The robins are gone," said Leila. "I haven't seen one today; and the
warblers are getting uneasy and will be gone soon. I haven't seen a
squirrel lately. Josiah used to say that meant an early winter."

"Oh, but the asters! What colour! And the golden-rod! Look at it close,
Leila. Each little flower is a star of gold."

"How pretty!" She bent down over the flowers to pay the homage of honest
pleasure. "How you always see, John, so easily, the pretty little wild
beauties of the woods; I never could." She was "making up" as children
say.

"Oh, you were the schoolmaster once," he laughed. "Come, we have enough;
now for the garden."

They passed through the paling fence and along the disordered beds, where
a night of too early frost had touched with chill fingers of disaster the
latest buds. Leila moved about looking at the garden, fingering a bud
here and there with gentle epitaphs of "late," "too late," or gathering
the more matronly roses which had bloomed in time. John watched her bend