In the afternoon all the young people started for the hills, gleaning the earliest flowers, and feasting their eyes on the sunlit landscapes veiled with soft haze from the abundant moisture with which the air was charged. As the sun sank low in the many-hued west, and the eastern mountains clothed themselves in royal purple, Webb chanced to be alone, near Amy, and she said: "You have had that flower all day, and I have not had your thoughts." "Oh, yes, you have--a great many of them." "You know that isn't what I mean. You promised to tell me what you were thinking about so deeply this morning." He looked at her smilingly a moment, and then his face grew gentle and grave as he replied: "I can scarcely explain, Amy. I am learning that thoughts which are not clear-cut and definite may make upon us the strongest impressions. They cause us to feel that there is much that we only half know and half understand as yet. You and your flowers seemed to interpret to me the meaning of this day as I never understood it before. Surely its deepest significance is life, happy, hopeful life, with escape from its grosser elements, and as you stood there you embodied that idea." "Oh, Webb," she cried, in comic perplexity, "you are getting too deep for me. I was only arranging flowers, and not thinking about embodying anything. But go on." "If you had been, you would have spoiled everything," he resumed, laughing. "I can't explain; I can only suggest the rest in a sentence or two. Look at the shadow creeping up yonder mountain--very dark blue on the lower side of the moving line and deep purple above. Listen to these birds around us. Well, every day I see and hear and appreciate these things better, and I thought that you were to blame." "Am I very much to blame?" she inquired, archly. "Yes, very much," was his laughing answer. "It seems to me that a few months since I was like the old man with the muck-rake in 'Pilgrim's Progress,' seeking to gather only money, facts, and knowledge--things of use. I now am finding so much that is useful which I scarcely looked at before that I am revising my philosophy, and like it much better. The simple truth is, I needed just such a sister as you are to keep me from plodding." Burt now appeared with a handful of rue-anemones, obtained by a rapid climb to a very sunny nook. They were the first of the season, and he justly believed that Amy would be delighted with them. But the words of Webb were more treasured, for they filled her with a pleased wonder. She had seen the changes herself to which he referred; but how could a simple girl wield such an influence over the grave, studious man? That was the puzzle of puzzles. It was an enigma that she would be long in solving, and yet the explanation was her own simplicity, her truthfulness to all the conditions of unaffected girlhood.