"I certainly can't help doing that, dear." The bishop was puffing a little over the climb his slight young wife took so easily. "I don't care. Here I've lived in cities all my life, while you have lived down here, and it has lost its charm to you. Only think of all this gorgeous display of nature just for these mountain people, and what is it to them?" "To them it's the natural order of things, just as you implied in regard to me." "Hark, James. Now, that's a catbird!" "And not a thrush?" "The other was a thrush. I know the difference." "Wise little woman! Come. There's that young man getting up a fever by fretting. We said--I said we would come early." "James, I'm going to stay up here and let you go to that stupid wedding down in Farington without me." "Perhaps we may have something interesting up here, if you'll hurry a little." "What is it, James?" "I really can't say, dear." She took his hand, and they walked on. "Wouldn't this be an ideal spot to spend a honeymoon? Hear that fall away down below us. How cool it sounds! Why don't you pay attention to me? What are you thinking about, James?" "I am making a little poem for you, dear. Listen:-- "Chatter, chatter, little tongue, What a wonder how you're hung! Up above the epiglottis, Tied on with a little knot 'tis." "Only geniuses may be silly, James, but perhaps you can't help it. I think married people ought to establish the custom of sabbatical honeymoons to counteract the divorce habit. Suppose we set the example, now we have arrived at just the right time for one, and spend ours here." "Anything you say, dear." Being an absent-minded man, the bishop had fallen in the way of saying that, when, had he paused to think, he would have admitted that everything was made to bend to his will or wish by the spirited little being at his side. Moreover, being an absent-minded man, he drew her to him and kissed her. Aunt Sally, watching them from the cabin door, wondered if the bishop were going away on a journey, to leave his wife behind, for why else should he kiss her thus? "Will you sit there on the rock and enjoy the mountains while I see how he is?" said the bishop. So they parted at the door, and Aunt Sally brought her a chair and stood beside her, giving her every detail of the affair as far as she knew it. She sat bareheaded in the sun, to Sally's amazement, for she had her hat in her lap and could have worn it. The wind blew wisps of her fine straight hair across her pink cheeks and in her eyes, as she gazed out upon the blue mountains and listened to Sally's tale of "How hit all come about." For Sally went back into the family history of the Teasleys, and the Caswells, and the Merlins, and the Farwells, until Betty forgot the flight of time and the bishop called her. Then she went in to see David. He had worked his right hand free from its bandages and was able to lift it a little. She took it in hers, and looked brightly down at him.