“But you know you wouldn’t that one of us were left behind;” he quoted sentimentally.
“Don’t flatter yourself too much. Modesty is becoming to young people.”
“Do you expect to find the old ones sitting on the steps of time, with faces grimly uncovered?”
They all laughed. Fan took Jennie Ryder’s arm, and Dick filled up the path beside them, so Winthrop fell back with me. Stuart was right behind with the prettiest girl he could find, as usual. On we started, but ere we had reached the first ascent we saw numerous followers in our wake.
“It is like a picture,” exclaimed Winthrop. “Or better still, a series of pictures. Oh, look at this moss! and these tiny ferns!”
They all stopped. How beautiful it was in this wide, glowing, redundant life, the trailing riotous vines, the long streamers of last year’s Aaron’s beard, the rustling of the leaves and the rippling, tinkling sound of the water.
“How curious;” said Jennie. “That is a walking fern.”
“Ah, you know it?” and Winthrop glanced up in a pleased fashion.
“I have a fern bed at home. I like them so much. And these grow in such a peculiar manner.”
“And she has the cunningest winter ferneries that you ever saw, Mr. Ogden,” declared Fan.