"I wonder if the strawberries are ripe," said Miss Cadwallader. "Little boy, are there any strawberries in your woods?" "My name is Asahel," said the 'little boy' gravely. "Is it? I am very glad indeed to know it. Are there any strawberries in the woods here?" "Lots of 'em," said Asahel. "Are they ripe yet?" "I haven't seen more than half a dozen," said Asahel. "They are just beginning in the sunny spots," said his brother smiling. "And do you have anything else here besides strawberries?" The question was put to Asahel. He looked a little blank. It was a broad one. "Any other fruit," said Elizabeth. "Plenty," said Asahel. "What?" said Miss Cadwallader; "tell us, will you; for I've come here to live upon wild fruit." "Yes, ma'am," said Asahel staring a little; -- "there's red raspberries, and black raspberries, and low-bush blackberries and high blackberries, and huckleberries, and bearberries, and cranberries; besides nuts, and apples. I guess that ain't all." "Thank you," said his questioner. "That will do. I don't intend to stay till nut-time. Oh what a way it is round this bay!" "I wish it was longer," said Elizabeth. The sun had left all the earth and betaken himself to the clouds; and there he seemed to be disporting himself with all the colours of his palette. There were half a dozen at a time flung on his vapoury canvass, and those were changed and shaded, and mixed and deepened, -- till the eye could but confess there was only one such storehouse of glory. And when the painting had faded, and the soft scattering masses were left to their natural grey, here a little silvered and there a little reddened yet, -- the whole West was still lit up with a clear white radiance that shewed how hardly the sun's bright track could be forgotten. "Are we here!" said Elizabeth with a half sigh, as the boat touched the rocks. "Yes, to be sure," said her cousin. "Where have you been?" "In the clouds; and I am sorry to come down again." Mr. Landholm was standing on the rocks, and a very frank and hearty reception he gave them. With him they walked up to the house; Asahel staid behind to wait till Winthrop had made fast the boat. "How do you like 'em, Governor?" whispered the little boy, crouching upon the rocks to get nearer his brother's ear. "How do I like 'em?" said Winthrop; -- "I can't like anybody upon five minutes' notice." "One of 'em's pretty, ain't she? -- the one with the light- coloured hair?" "I suppose so," said Winthrop, tying his chain. "I guess they like it here pretty well," Asahel went on. "Didn't you see how they looked at everything?" "No." "They looked up, and they looked down, and on one side and the other side; and every now and then they looked at you." "And what did you look at?" "I looked at them, -- some." "Well," said Winthrop laughing, "don't look at them too much, Asahel." "Why not?" "Why, you wouldn't want to do anything _too_ much, would you?" "No. But what would be too much?"