"It is growing dusky, and I won't be able to see you at all soon." "That's evasion." "Come, Mr. Morton, I hope you do not propose to keep up Eden customs indefinitely. It's time we returned to the world to which we belong." "Zillah!" called Mrs. Yocomb, and we saw her coming down the garden walk. "Bless me! where is the child!" I exclaimed. "When you began to soar into the realms of melodrama and forget the garden you had asked her to show you, she sensibly tried to amuse herself. She is in the strawberry-bed, Mrs. Yocomb." "Yes," I said, "I admit that I forgot the garden; I had good reason to do so." "I think it is time we left the garden. You must remember that Mrs. Yocomb and I are not night editors, and cannot see in the dark." "Mother," cried Zillah, coming forward, "see what I have found;" and her little hands were full of ripe strawberries. "If it wasn't getting so dark I could have found more, I'm sure," she added, "What, giving them all to me?" Miss Warren exclaimed, as Zillah held out her hands to her favorite. "Wouldn't it be nicer if we all had some?" "Who held you up to look into the robin's nest?" I asked reproachfully. "Thee may give Richard Morton my share," said the little girl, trying to make amends. I held out my hand, and Miss Warren gave me half of them. "Now these are mine?" I said to Zillah. "Yes!" "Then I'll do what I please with them." I picked out the largest, and stooping down beside her, continued: "You must eat these or I won't eat any." "Thee's very like Emily Warren," the little girl laughed; "thee gets around me before I know it." "I'll give you all the strawberries for that compliment." "No, thee must take half." "Mrs. Yocomb, you and I will divide, too. Could there possibly be a more delicious combination!" and Miss Warren smacked her lips appreciatively. "The strawberry was evolved by a chance combination of forces," I remarked. "Undoubtedly," added Miss Warren, "so was my Geneva watch." "I like to think of the strawberry in this way," said Mrs. Yocomb. "There are many things in the Scriptures hard to understand; so there are in Nature. But we all love the short text: 'God is love.' The strawberry is that text repeated in Nature." "Mrs. Yocomb, you could convert infidels and pagans with a gospel of strawberries," I cried. "There are many Christians who prefer tobacco," said Mrs. Yocomb, laughing. "That reminds me," I exclaimed, "that I have not smoked to-day. I fear I shall fall from grace to-morrow, however." "Yes, I imagine you will drop from the clouds by tomorrow," Miss Warren remarked. "By the way, what a magnificent cloud that is rising above the horizon in the southwest. It appears like a solitary headland in an azure sea." "Ah--h!" she said, in satirical accent. "Mrs. Yocomb, Miss Warren has been laughing at me ever since I came. I may have to claim your protection." "No! thee and father are big enough to take care of yourselves."