I
learned all the flowers that summer." He clasped his hands comfortably
back of his head and looked at her. She was gazing out over the Bad
Lands to the East. "In the very centre, as a sort of protecting nurse
to all the littler flowers," he went on, "is a big lilac bush, and
there the bees and humming birds are thick on a warm spring day. There
are plenty of birds too, but I didn't know so many of them. They
nested everywhere--in the 'big tree,' the orchard, the evergreens, the
hedges, and in the long row of maple trees with trunks as big as a
barrel and limbs that touch across the street."
"It must be beautiful!" said the girl quietly without looking around.
Then he began to "suppose." This, as every woman knows, is dangerous
business.
"It _was_ beautiful," said he. "I can't tell you about it. The words
don't seem to fit some way. I wish you could see it for yourself. I
know you'd enjoy it. I always wanted some one with me to enjoy it too.
Suppose some way we were placed so we could watch the year go by in
those deep windows. First there is the spring and the birds and the
flowers, all of which I've been talking about.
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