“Ah, but I can't do that! I must go on blooming whether I like it or not, and the only trouble I have is to know what leaf I ought to unfold next,” said Rose, playfully smoothing out the white gown, in which she looked very like a daisy among the green. “How far have you got?” asked Mac, continuing his catechism as if the fancy suited him. “Let me see. Since I came home last year, I've been gay, then sad, then busy, and now I am simply happy. I don't know why, but seem to be waiting for what is to come next and getting ready for it, perhaps unconsciously,” she said, looking dreamily away to the hills again, is if the new experience was coming to her from afar. Mac watched her thoughtfully for a minute, wondering how many more leaves must unfold before the golden heart of this human flower would lie open to the sun. He felt a curious desire to help in some way, and could think of none better than to offer her what he had found most helpful to himself. Picking up another book, he opened it at a place where an oak leaf lay and, handing it to her, said, as if presenting something very excellent and precious: “If you want to be ready to take whatever comes in a brave and noble way, read that, and the one where the page is turned down.” Rose took it, saw the words “Self-Reliance,” and turning the leaves, read here and there a passage which was marked: “'My life is for itself, and not for a spectacle.' “'Insist on yourself: never imitate. That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him.' “'Do that which is assigned to you, and you cannot hope or dare too much.'” Then, coming to the folded page, whose title was “Heroism,” she read, and brightened as she read: “'Let the maiden, with erect soul, walk serenely on her way; accept the hint of each new experience; search in turn all the objects that solicit her eye, that she may learn the power and the charm of her newborn being.' “'The fair girl who repels interference by a decided and proud choice of influences inspires every beholder with something of her own nobleness; and the silent heart encourages her. O friend, never strike sail to a fear! Come into port greatly, or sail with God the seas.'” “You understand that, don't you?” asked Mac as she glanced up with the look of one who had found something suited to her taste and need. “Yes, but I never dared to read these Essays, because I thought they were too wise for me.” “The wisest things are sometimes the simplest, I think. Everyone welcomes light and air, and cannot do without them, yet very few could explain them truly. I don't ask you to read or understand all of that don't myself but I do recommend the two essays I've marked, as well as 'Love' and 'Friendship.' Try them, and let me know how they suit. I'll leave you the book.” “Thanks. I wanted something fine to read up here and, judging by what I see, I fancy this will suit. Only Aunt Jessie may think I'm putting on airs if I try Emerson.”