ote.
There he is, like a red blossom in those bushes. There--no, there. You
will look in the wrong direction, James, and now he's gone. You remember
what David Thryng wrote? 'It's good just to be alive.' He's always
saying that, and now I understand--in such a place as this. Oh, just
breathe the air, James!"

"I certainly can't help doing that, dear." The bishop was puffing a
little over the climb his slight young wife took so easily.

"I don't care. Here I've lived in cities all my life, while you have
lived down here, and it has lost its charm to you. Only think of all
this gorgeous display of nature just for these mountain people, and what
is it to them?"

"To them it's the natural order of things, just as you implied in regard
to me."

"Hark, James. Now, that's a catbird!"

"And not a thrush?"

"The other was a thrush. I know the difference."

"Wise little woman! Come. There's that young man getting up a fever by
fretting. We said--I said we would come early."

"James, I'm going to stay up here and let you go to that stupid wedding
down in Farington without me."

"Perhaps we may have something interesting up here, if you'll hurry a
little."

"What is it, James?"

"I really can't say, dear." She took his hand, and they walked on.

"Wouldn't this be an ideal spot to spend a honeymoon? Hear that fall
away down below us. How cool it sounds! Why don't you pay attention to
me? What are you thinking about, James?"

"I am making a little poem for you, dear. Listen:--

"Chatter, chatter, little tongue,
What a wonder how you're hung!
Up above the epiglottis,
Tied on with a little knot 'tis."

"Only geniuses may be silly, James, but perhaps you can't help it. I
think married people ought to establish the custom of sabbatical
honeymoons to counteract the divorce habit. Suppose we set the example,
now we have arrived at just the right time for one, and spend ours
here."

"Anything you say, dear."

Being an absent-minded man, the bishop had fallen in the way of saying
that, when, had he paused to think, he would have admitted that
everything was made to bend to his will or wish by the spirited little
being at his side. Moreover, being an absent-minded man, he drew her to
him and kissed her. Aunt Sally, watching them from the cabin door,
wondered if the bishop were going away on a journey, to leave his wife
behind, for why else should he kiss her thus?

"Will you sit there on the