th this
perfect girl was producing a happy effect on his poor brains, making him
as bright and ready with a good reply as any one. And in their happiness
they played at being children just as in the old days they had played at
being grown-ups. Casting themselves down on the green, elastic,
flower-sprinkled turf, they rolled one after the other down the smooth
slopes of the terrace, the old "shepherd's steps," and by and by
Johnnie, coming upon a patch of creeping thyme, rubbed his hands in the
pale purple flowers, then rubbed her face to make it fragrant.

"Oh, 'tis sweet!" she cried. "Did 'ee ever see so many little flowers on
the down?--'tis as if they came out just for us." Then, indicating the
tiny milkwort faintly sprinkling the turf all about them, "Oh, the
little blue darlings! Did 'ee ever see such a dear blue?"

"Oh, aye, a prettier blue nor that," said Johnnie. "'Tis just here,
Marty," and pressing her down he kissed her on the eyelids a dozen
times.

"You silly Johnnie!"

"Be I silly, Marty? but I love the red too," and with that he kissed her
on the mouth. "And, Marty, I do love the red on the breasties too--won't
'ee let me have just one kiss there?"

And she, to please him, opened her dress a little way, but blushingly,
though she was his wife and nobody was there to see, but it seemed
strange to her out of doors with the sun overhead. Oh, 'twas all
delicious! Never was earth so heavenly sweet as on that wide green down,
sprinkled with innumerable little flowers, under the wide blue sky and
the all-illuminating sun that shone into their hearts!

At length, rising to her knees and looking up the green slope, she cried
out: "Oh, Johnnie, there's the old thorn tree! Do 'ee remember when we
played at crows on it and had such a fright? 'Twas the last time we came
here together. Come, let's go to the old tree and see how it looks now."

Johnnie all at once became grave, and said No, he wouldn't go to it for
anything. She was curious and made him tell her the reason. He had never
forgotten that day and the fear that came into his mind on account of
the words the strange man had spoken. She didn't know what the words
were; she had been too frightened to listen, and so he had to tell her.

"Then, 'tis a wishing-tree for sure," Marty exclaimed. When he asked her
what a wishing-tree was, she could only say that her old grandmother,
now dead, had told her. 'Tis a tree that knows us and can do us good and
harm