"What you thought about everything?" said Daisy.

"Yes; every verse and question, she would say, 'What do you
think about it?' and I didn't like that, because I never
thought anything."

Whereat Daisy fell into a muse. Her question recurred to her;
but it was hardly likely, she felt, that her little companion
could enlighten her. Nora was a bright, lively, spirited
child, with black eyes and waves of beautiful black hair;
neither at rest; sportive energy and enjoyment in every
motion. Daisy was silent.

"What is supposed to be going on here?" said a stronger voice
behind them, which brought both their heads round. It was to
see another head just making its way up above the level of
their platform; a head that looked strong and spirited as the
voice had sounded; a head set with dark hair, and eyes that
were too full of light to let you see what colour they were.
Both children came to their feet, one saying, "Marmaduke!" the
other, "Mr. Dinwiddie!"

"What do two such mature people do when they get together? I
should like to know," said the young man as he reached the
top.

"Talking, sir," said Daisy.

"Picking wintergreens," said the other, in a breath.