"Yes. These are berry bushes. Do you like blueberries?"
"I don't know."
Mrs. Lowell laughed and shook the arm she was still holding. "You do know, Bertie," she said. "You must have eaten lots of blueberries." Her merry eyes held his dull ones as she spoke. "I don't like to hear you say you don't know, all the time."
"What difference does it make?" he returned.
"All the difference in the world. The most important thing in life is for us to know. There are such quantities of beautiful things for us to know. This day, for instance. We can know it is beautiful, can't we?"
When they reached the stony beach, she released his arm and sat down among the pebbles. He did not look at them or at the sea; but at her. She wore a blue dress and her brown hair was ruffling in the wind.
"Do you like stones?" she asked.
"I—" he began.
She lifted her hand and laughed again into his eyes. "Careful!" she said. "Don't say you don't know."
The boy's look altered from dullness to perplexity. "But I don't—" he began slowly.