to take a long walk this afternoon, Clematis?"
said Mr. Alder, while she was eating her ice cream and cake.

"Oh, yes, let's." Clematis was glad enough. She never liked Sundays
very well.

"Good, we can walk up Bean Hill, if you think you can go that far."

[Illustration: She could see the little fish]

"Oh, I can walk farther than that."

So they started out, while Mrs. Alder lay down for a nap.

They didn't go by the road, but crossed the river in a boat that Mr.
Alder kept tied to the bank.

Then they walked through the trees and meadows by the path.

Clematis was full of joy. New birds sang here. New trees, and new
flowers met her at each turn.

After they had walked about a mile, they came to a little cabin, set
among maple trees.

"Who lives here?" asked Clematis. It looked like the cabins she had
seen in her picture books.

"No one lives here now. This is where they boil down their sap in
the spring. They make maple syrup, and maple sugar."

There were the big pans, turned upside down, and the pails that
caught the sap.

Her mouth watered as she thought of all the maple sugar they had
made in that little cabin. She wanted to stay longer, but Mr. Alder
started on.

"We must get along, I want to see Mr. Brooks before we go home."

"Who is Mr. Brooks?"

"Mr. Brooks is a good man who lives over here on the side of Bean
Hill. He lives all alone by himself."

"Oh," replied Clematis, "is he the man who owns the white house with
the vines, and has had so much sadness?"

"Yes. How did you know about him?"

"Mr. Ladd stopped near his house. He told me."

The walk was a long one, and Clematis was glad when she saw the
little cottage on the hillside.

"Here we are. There is Mr. Brooks now, working over his flowers."
Mr. Alder went over to the little garden, where a man with white
hair was pulling out weeds.

"Good day, Mr. Alder. Glad enough to see you. Come up and sit on the
piazza."

Mr. Brooks smiled, as he wiped his hands.

"And here is a lady, too," he added. "I believe I have never met
her."

He held out his hand to Clematis with a kindly smile, and led them
to the piazza.

Mr. Alder told him who she was, while Clematis was looking at the
neat little cottage.

A vine was growing about the door, with little white flowers,
peeping out from its green leaves.

Mr. Brooks saw her looking at it.

"Do you like the flowers?" he asked.

"Yes,--it is just the same."

"What do you mean