“So—I thought I must soon see you,” he said. “My dear little Kitty, I come with messages for you and kind inquiries.” “From whom—from uncle and aunt?” “No; not from them. The schoolmaster, Mr. Bramber, when he heard whither I was coming, begged me to see you and ascertain how you were, and whether you liked the book he lent you.” “Oh, sir, I read it every day! I know several pieces by heart.” “That you are well, I see. I never saw you with such a glow of health and happiness in your bonnie face before.” “Thank you, sir. And will you see him soon?” “Whom? Bramber?” “Yes, sir,” answered Kate, the glow in her face deepening. “And will you say that I have been picking the flowers as they come out, and I can find them, and that I do want to know what they are called? God brought the beasts to Adam to name them, and I do not think Adam can have been happy with the beasts till he had given each a name. It is so with me and the flowers. I see them, and I love them; but I don’t feel content till I can tell what each is called. Mr. Bramber can name them all.” “You have made a collection?” “Yes, I have dried them in my Prayer-book. They are waiting for Mr. Bramber to name. But”—Kate drew back—"I am in your way, sir; you are painting the old bridge." “Yes; but you can sit down there if you like, and will not disturb me.” “May I? Oh, I shall be pleased.” Kate placed herself on a lichen-covered rock on one side, at a little distance from the water. “I have left my few sheep for a couple of days,” said Mr. Fielding apologetically, partly to Kate, mostly to himself; “but I do not think I have done wrong. Moses went up into the Mount, and came back to his people with his face shining. I do not know, but it seems to me that when I have been here aloft, speaking with nature and nature’s God, face to face, that I can go back and carry with me some of the brightness and the freshness and the fragrance of the mountain. I may be wrong, finding an excuse for myself, because I love to come here.” “Please, sir,” said Kate, “the Great Master of all dismissed the multitude and went up into the mountain apart.” “Yes, child, yes,” answered the rector, painting as he talked; “and when He came down, He walked on the stormy waves. And I—His humble follower—I think I can tread on the troubles and cares of life erect, and not be swallowed up after I have been here.” “I do not know how I shall bear to go back to Coombe Cellars,” said Kate sadly. “You will go back braced to do your work. We cannot always play, Kitty dear. You know the fable of the bow. It was relaxed only that it might be the better weapon when restrung. Besides, when you return you will have pleasure.” “I shall think about my delightful holiday.” “Yes; and learn the names of the flowers you have dried in your Prayer-book,” said Mr. Fielding, with a twinkle in the corner of his eye.