"I have to visit a patient a few miles farther on," said the doctor when they came out on the highway. Soon they were driving across a knoll and fields of tasseled corn lay before them. A little farther and they entered the woods. "Ah, Mary, I would not worry about leaving church. The groves were God's first temples." After a little he said, "I was trying to think what Beecher said about trees--it was something like this: 'Without doubt better trees there might be than even the most noble and beautiful now. Perhaps God has in his thoughts much better ones than he has ever planted on this globe. They are reserved for the glorious land.'" "See this, John!" and Mary pointed to a group of trees they were passing, "a ring cut around every one of them!" "Yes, the fool's idea of things is to go out and kill a tree by the roadside--often standing where it can't possibly do any harm. How often in my drives I have seen this and it always makes me mad." They drove for a while in silence, then Mary said, "Nature seems partial to gold." She had been noting the Spanish needles and Black-eyed Susans which starred the dusty roadside and filled the field on the left with purest yellow, while golden-rod and wild sunflowers bloomed profusely on all sides. "Yes, that seems to be the prevailing color in the wild-flowers of this region." "That reminds me of something. A few months ago a little girl said to me, 'Mrs. Blank, don't you think red is God's favorite color?' 'Why, dear, I don't think I ever thought about it,' I answered, quite surprised. 'Well, I think he likes _red_ better than any color.' 'Why I don't know, but when we look around and see the grass and the trees and the vines growing everywhere, it seems to me that _green_ might be his favorite color. But what makes you think it is red?' 'Because he put _blood_ into everybody in the world.' Quite staggered by this reasoning and making an effort to keep from smiling, I said, 'But we can't see that. If red is his favorite color why should he put it where it can't be seen?' The child looked at me in amazement. '_God_ can see it. He can see clear _through_ anybody.' The little reasoner had vanquished me and I fled the field." A little way ahead lay a large snake stretched out across the road. "The boy that put it there couldn't help it," said the doctor, "it's born in him. When I was a lad every snake I killed was promptly brought to the road and stretched across it to scare the passers-by." "And yet I don't suppose it ever did scare anyone." "Occasionally a girl or woman uttered a shriek and I felt repaid. I remember one big girl walking along barefooted; before she knew it she had set her foot on the cold, slimy thing. The way she yelled and made the dust fly filled my soul with a frenzy of delight. I rolled over and over in the weeds by the roadside and yelled too."