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e a sup of wine and a bit of bread for the Folk, and let us see if we cannot find some May-flowers." They left the little pine room,--Kirk putting in the root hollow a generous tithe for the garden folk,--and went through the garden till the grass grew higher beneath their feet, and they began to climb a rough, sun-warmed hillside, where dry leaves rustled and a sweet earthy smell arose. "Search here among the leaves," the Maestro said, "and see what you shall find." So Kirk, in a dream of wonder, dropped to his knees, and felt among the loose leaves, in the sunshine. And there were tufts of smooth foliage, all hidden away, and there came from them a smell rapturously sweet--arbutus on a sunlit hill. Kirk pulled a sprig and sat drinking in the deliciousness of it, till the old gentleman said: "We must have enough for a wreath, you know--a wreath for the queen." "Who is our Queen of the May?" Kirk asked. "The most beautiful person you know." "Felicia," said Kirk, promptly. "Felicia," mused the Maestro. "That is a beautiful name. Do you know what it means?" Kirk did not. "It means happiness. Is it so?" "Yes," said Kirk; "Ken and I couldn't be happy without her. She _is_ happiness." "Kenneth is your brother?" "Kenelm. Does that mean something?" The old gentleman plucked May-flowers for a moment. "It means, if I remember rightly, 'a defender of his kindred.' It is a good Anglo-Saxon name." "What does my name mean?" Kirk asked. The Maestro laughed. "Yours is not a given name," he said. "It has no meaning. But--you mean much to me." He caught Kirk suddenly in a breathless embrace, from which he released him almost at once, with an apology. "Let us make the wreath," he said. "See, I'll show you how." He bound the first strands, and then guided Kirk's hands in the next steps, till the child was fashioning the wreath alone. "'My love's an arbutus On the borders of Lene,'" sang the Maestro, in his gentle voice. "Listen and I will tell you what you must say to Felicia when you crown her Queen of the May." The falling sun found the wreath completed and the verse learned, and the two went hand in hand back through the shadowy garden. "Won't you make music to-day?" Kirk begged. "Not to-day," said the old gentleman. "This day we go a-maying. But I am glad you do not forget the music." "How could I?" said Kirk. At the hedge, he added: "I'd like to put a bit of arbutus in your
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