ybodies of
the woods; they haven't learned the fine reserve of its other denizens.
But after all, there is a certain shrill friendliness in their
greeting."

"They seem to be scolding us," I said, laughing.

"Oh, they are not half such scolds as they sound," answered Uncle Blair
gaily. "If they would but 'tak a thought and mend' their shrew-like ways
they would be dear, lovable creatures enough."

"If I had to be an animal I think I'd like to be a squirrel," said the
Story Girl. "It must be next best thing to flying."

"Just see what a spring that fellow gave," laughed Uncle Blair. "And now
listen to his song of triumph! I suppose that chasm he cleared seemed as
wide and deep to him as Niagara Gorge would to us if we leaped over
it. Well, the wood people are a happy folk and very well satisfied with
themselves."

Those who have followed a dim, winding, balsamic path to the unexpected
hollow where a wood-spring lies have found the rarest secret the forest
can reveal. Such was our good fortune that day. At the end of our path
we found it, under the pines, a crystal-clear thing with lips unkissed
by so much as a stray sunbeam.

"It is easy to dream that this is one of the haunted springs of old
romance," said Uncle Blair. "'Tis an enchanted spot this, I am very
sure, and we should go softly, speaking low, lest we disturb the rest
of a white, wet naiad, or break some spell that has cost long years of
mystic weaving."

"It's so easy to believe things in the woods," said the Story Girl,
shaping a cup from a bit of golden-brown birch bark and filling it at
the spring.

"Drink a toast in that water, Sara," said Uncle Blair. "There's not a
doubt that it has some potent quality of magic in it and the wish you
wish over it will come true."

The Story Girl lifted her golden-hued flagon to her red lips. Her hazel
eyes laughed at us over the brim.

"Here's to our futures," she cried, "I wish that every day of our lives
may be better than the one that went before."

"An extravagant wish--a very wish of youth," commented Uncle Blair, "and
yet in spite of its extravagance, a wish that will come true if you are
true to yourselves. In that case, every day WILL be better than all that
went before--but there will be many days, dear lad and lass, when you
will not believe it."

We did not understand him, but we knew Uncle Blair never explained his
meaning. When asked it he was wont to answer with a smile, "Some day
you'll gr