windings, its accumulation of driftwood, its unsuspected depths, and its
crystalline shallows, singing in the Summer sun. Barriers may be built
across its path, but they bring only power, as the conquering of an
obstacle is always sure to do. Sometimes when the rocks and stone-clad
hills loom large ahead, and eternity itself would be needed to carve a
passage, there is an easy way around. The discovery of it makes the
river sing with gladness and turns the murmurous deeps to living water,
bright with ripples and foam.

Ultimately, too, in spite of rocks and driftwood, of endless seeking for
a path, of tempestuous nights and days of ice and snow, man and the
river reach the eternal sea, to be merged forever with the Everlasting.

Upstairs the music ceased. A door opened, then closed, and presently
Allison came down, rubbing his hands. "It's a little cool up there," he
said, "and yet, by the calendar, it's Spring. I wish this climate could
be averaged up."

"Even then, we wouldn't be satisfied," the Colonel returned. "Who wants
all his days to be alike?"

"Nobody. Still, it's a bit trying to freeze your nose one day and be
obliged to keep all the windows open the next."

There was a long pause. The Colonel tapped his fingers restlessly upon
the library table. Allison went over to the open fire and stood with his
back to it, clasping his hands behind him. "What have you been doing all
the morning, Dad?"

"Nothing. Just sitting here, thinking."