Things beyond his father had the color of fear and struggle. Things beyond his mother possessed the qualities of joy. When his mind was centered, his father still could serve as symbol for life’s obstructions; his mother, of life’s happy possibilities. But Quincy was too concerned in the glad discovery of a far-flung world, in the adventuring forth upon its surprises and delights. He had in balance little energy for intensive feeling. His passions subsided--spread forth into a maze of sentiment. Where had been hate was now a mere sense of objection; where had been love remained a sense of comfort and attachment. His soul was unfolding itself among objective fields. The clash of pent-in conflict had died away. His brothers and sisters now stepped within his world. There was Adelaide, for instance, just three years older than himself. (By this time Thomas, the seventh child, had gone with some mute regret and very little comment.) Adelaide was an admirable person to lead in adventure. She was courageous and passing wise. Upon one occasion, she had eaten grass to Quincy’s ecstasy. Her teeth and lips had turned a convincing green. And if she could steal a cookie with hardihood, she was not above sharing it with mercy. Her two blond braids, moreover, had a delightful way of tossing when one desired to catch hold of them and her cheeks were good to delve one’s nose in. The pair held the butterflies in equal fellowship. The great trees filled them both with the same wonder. And since, by the new dispensation, they slept side by side in two separate little cots, they exchanged secrets and dreams, giggles and deep sympathies for life’s sudden flares of sorrow, with mutual satisfaction. Rhoda, who was quite tall and had black hair, was a formidable creature. Her little sister hated her, called her a “pig.” So Quincy joined in the compact of hostility. And since it comprehended chiefly the making of faces, the harassing of Rhoda’s dolls, the acquisition, separate from her, of pennies and cookies and the hoarding, to Rhoda’s green chagrin, of visionary secrets and a very real toad, Quincy enjoyed this passion hugely.