"I beg to remind you, John, of what you said about training trees—'the nature of the tree has to be taken into account'; no amount of training could make an oak out of a willow."
"True, mother. Yet there are people who would prefer the willow to the oak."
"And you couldn't help such people, now could you? You might be sorry for them. But there—what could you do?"
And John said softly,
"What can we do o'er whom the unbeholden
Hangs in a night, wherewith we dare not cope;
What but look sunward, and with faces golden,
Speak to each other softly of our Hope?"
CHAPTER VII
SHOCK AND SORROW
There's not a bonnie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green,
There's not a bonnie bird that sings,
But minds me of my Jean.