"I like them," he said, "but I don't care about gathering them; I prefer to see them growing. When people pick flowers they mix them together regardless of their colours; but when you see them growing, the colours are sure to blend properly. Look at those buttercups and cuckoo-flowers springing up side by side in the grass—yellow and pale lilac—there's nothing to offend one's taste there. Nature doesn't make a mistake."
"It is all so beautiful!" Angel exclaimed, her appreciative eyes wandering over the fair landscape. "Do you know what I overheard Miss Goodwin say to father the other day? They had been talking of the pretty places about Wreyford, and Miss Goodwin said: 'Beauty of any description always makes me understand God's love.' I think I know what she meant, don't you?"
"Yes," he answered briefly.
They had now reached the spot where the boys' fishing rods and the baskets full of cowslips lay, in safety, on the river's bank; evidently no one had been there during the children's absence. A few minutes later Tom's voice was heard at no great distance, shouting lustily. The hare had outwitted the hounds, and was returning triumphantly to the starting-point.
"Didn't you follow, Angel?" Tom gasped, as he flung himself on the ground to regain his breath.
"Yes," she replied, "but I got behind the others and missed them, then your brother found me, and I thought we'd better wait for you here. I knew you'd return."
"I hope Gilbert has been making himself agreeable," Tom said in his teasing way.
"Oh yes," Angel answered simply; at which Tom laughed heartily, and Gilbert frowned.
"Where have you been all the afternoon, old chap?" the younger brother inquired of the elder.
"For a walk."