"Well, he thinks just as you do. And papa goes and preaches in the streets when he is in New York; in those dreadful places where the people live that never go to church." "_That's_ like Landolf," said Meredith. "I almost envy men like that old monk." "Why?" "All his strength laid out for something worth while--all his life. And think how much he did! And I fret to be doing nothing, and yet I don't know what to do." "You can ask Uncle Eden when he comes." "I hope he'll come! Now don't think any more about it, Maggie. This is the prettiest place I ever saw in my life. I want to get out on that water." "Now?" "Not now. Some time." "Oh, we'll all go," said Maggie joyfully. "We might go in the boat somewhere and take our book and our dinner, and have a grand time, Ditto!" Meredith laughed and said it was all "grand times;" and then he got up and strolled along by the water, picking up flat stones and making ducks and drakes on the smooth, river surface. This was a new pastime to Maggie, and so pleasant to both that they forgot the book and the girls left on the height, and delighted their eye with the dimpling water and ricochetting stones time after time, and could not have enough. At last flat stones began to grow scarce, and Maggie and Meredith remounted to the rest of the party. "Well!" said Flora, "you've come in good time. We are going home." "Home!" echoed Maggie. "To be sure. Don't you think we want dinner some time?" said Esther; "and we are tired sitting here. And it is growing late besides. Just look where the sun is." There was nothing to be said to the sun; and the books and work being stowed again in the cart, Meredith took his place as porter, and the little company returned to the house. CHAPTER V. A little tired, and not a little hungry, it was very good now to have a change, and be at home. The girls went to dress for dinner, while Meredith, whose toilet was sooner made, sat on the terrace in the mellow October light and dreamed. Dinner went off merrily. After dinner, when it began to be dark, they all repaired to the library. A little fire was kindled here, for the pleasure of it rather than from the need. The afghan and worsted embroidery came out again under the bright lamplight; but Meredith sat idly tending the fire. "Ditto," said Maggie, "can't we see about all those Saxon gods now?--or don't you want to?" "Of course, I want to see about them," said Meredith, springing up and going to the bookcases. "I want to know myself, Maggie." "Were they different from the Roman and Grecian gods?" Flora asked. "It is safe for people who cannot keep their ears open, to refrain from questions," Meredith answered. "Why, I heard all you read," said Flora, pouting a little; "but how should I know but those were the same as the Roman gods, only under different names?"