"
We passed through some woods and came out near my own ancient little
house. He noticed it and said:
"The man who built that had some memory of Greece in his mind when he put
on that little porch with those columns."
My second daughter, Frances, was coming from a distant school on the
evening train, and the carriage was starting just then to bring her. I
suggested that perhaps he would find it pleasant to make the drive.
"Yes," he agreed, "I should enjoy that."
So I took the reins, and he picked up little Joy, who came running out
just then, and climbed into the back seat. It was another beautiful
evening, and he was in a talkative humor. Joy pointed out a small turtle
in the road, and he said:
"That is a wild turtle. Do you think you could teach it arithmetic?"
Joy was uncertain.
"Well," he went on, "you ought to get an arithmetic--a little ten-cent
arithmetic--and teach that turtle."
We passed some swampy woods, rather dim and junglelike.
"Those," he said, "are elephant woods."
But Joy answered:
"They are fairy woods. The fairies are there, but you can't see them
because they wear magic cloaks."
He said: "I wish I had one of those magic cloaks, sometimes. I had one
once, but it is worn out now."
Joy looked at him reverently, as one who had once been the owner of a
piece of fairyland.
It was a sweet drive to and from the village. There are none too many
such evenings in a lifetime.
Pages:
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684