Tommy was jolly and full of fun and laughter, but he had his periods of being quiet and this afternoon was one of them. At such times his playmates had learned to leave him alone. For they knew it was just one of “Tommy’s silent times,” and that by and by he would be as merry as the others. He went along with the other children, holding Phœbe’s hand and keeping close to her until they reached the bottom of the glen. Then the others scattered, leaving him and Phœbe to walk on together. The other boys amused themselves by throwing pebbles in the brook and trying to find a minnow, while the little girls wandered about the glen in search of flowers. Phœbe Allen walked slowly along with Tommy at her side, and after a few minutes she said: “I’m ever so glad we came to the glen to-day. It’s just lovely here isn’t it, little Tommy?” “Yes, I guess ’tis.” He continued, “Phœbe, don’t you like the summer time the best of all? The woods are so cool and green and there’s so many flowers.” “Oh, yes, I do love it. But I think I like the spring time best because I think the little flowers, so pale and tender, are the very dearest of all. The summer flowers are so strong and bright. I love the little spring flowers the best, and best of all the big, beautiful purple violet.” Tommy thought a while and then he said: “I know. I guess you mean that we love the things that aren’t strong the best. It wouldn’t hurt a daisy or a big mullein or a clover blossom one bit if it was to rain hard. Would it? But the wee spring flowers couldn’t stand so much, could they?” “Yes, that’s it. Then, you see, I always think all the flowers are real people, just as real as you and I are, only different, and of all the Flower People—I always call them the Flower People when I think of them—it seems to me that the spring Flower People are the loveliest. For they come to us almost before the winter’s gone and while it is still very cold and we haven’t any other flowers.” “I think so too,” said Tommy. “You always ’splain to us children and tell us lots of nice things to think about, Phœbe. But I like it best of all when you ’splain things to just me, for then I can understand real easy.” The children soon came to a big chestnut tree and Phœbe sat down under it to rest awhile. Tommy walked on. Phœbe looked around her. She could hear the children laughing and chattering up the glen. She watched Tommy. He walked along, stopping every now and then to watch a butterfly or to peer into the waters of the brook as it rippled along the side of his path.