d of being merely dutifully
kept. There were other differences, too, subtle differences that did
not show, perhaps, but that still were there.

Mr. and Mrs. Holly, more than ever now, were learning to look at the
world through David's eyes. One day--one wonderful day--they even went
to walk in the woods with the boy; and whenever before had Simeon Holly
left his work for so frivolous a thing as a walk in the woods!

It was not accomplished, however, without a struggle, as David could
have told. The day was a Saturday, clear, crisp, and beautiful, with a
promise of October in the air; and David fairly tingled to be free and
away. Mrs. Holly was baking--and the birds sang unheard outside her
pantry window. Mr. Holly was digging potatoes--and the clouds sailed
unnoticed above his head.

All the morning David urged and begged. If for once, just this once,
they would leave everything and come, they would not regret it, he was
sure. But they shook their heads and said, "No, no, impossible!" In the
afternoon the pies were done and the potatoes dug, and David urged and
pleaded again. If once, only this once, they would go to walk with him
in the woods, he would be so happy, so very happy! And to please the
boy--they went.

It was a curious walk. Ellen Holly trod softly, with timid feet. She
threw hurried, frightened glances from side to side. It was plain that
Ellen Holly did not know how to play. Simeon Holly stalked at her
elbow, stern, silent, and preoccupied. It was plain that Simeon Holly
not only did not know how to play, but did not even care to find out.

The boy tripped ahead and talked. He had the air of a monarch
displaying his kingdom. On one side was a bit of moss worthy of the
closest attention; on another, a vine that carried allurement in every
tendril. Here was a flower that was like a story for interest, and
there was a bush that bore a secret worth the telling. Even Simeon
Holly glowed into a semblance of life when David had unerringly picked
out and called by name the spruce, and fir, and pine, and larch, and
then, in answer to Mrs. Holly's murmured: "But, David, where's the
difference? They look so much alike!" he had said:--

"Oh, but they aren't, you know. Just see how much more pointed at the
top that fir is than that spruce back there; and the branches grow
straight out, too, like arms, and they're all smooth and tapering at
the ends like a pussy-cat's tail. But the spruce back there--ITS
branche