"People that set out to have everything beautiful, get the same
things over and over; graveled drives and a smooth lawn, and trees
put into groups tidily, and circles and baskets of flowers, and a
view, perhaps, of a village away off, or a piece of the harbor, or a
peep at the hills. But you are right down _amongst_ such niceness!
There's the river, close by; you can hear it all night, tumbling
along behind the mills and the houses; there are the woods just down
the lane beside the bakehouse; and here is the door-stone and the
shady trellis, and the yard crowded full of flowers, as if they had
all come because they wanted to, and knew they should have a good
time, like a real country party, instead of standing off in separate
properness, as people do who 'go into society.' And the new bread
smells so sweet! I think it's what-for and because that make it so
much better. Somebody came here to _do_ something; and the rest
was, and happened, and grew. I can't bear things fixed up to be
exquisite!"

"That is the real doctrine of the kingdom of heaven," said a sweet,
cheery voice behind them. They all turned round; Miss Euphrasia
Kirkbright stood upon the door-stone.

"Being and doing. Then the surrounding is born out of the living.
The Lord, up there, lets the saints make their own glory."

"Then you don't think the golden streets are all paved hard,
beforehand?" said Sylvie. She understood Miss Euphrasia, and chimed
quickly into her key. She had had talks with her before this, and
she liked them.

"No more than that," said Miss Kirkbright, pointing to the golden