“Individually, yes; but collectively man is two-thirds,” he replied with a laugh.
“I’ll forgive you, old man, but let me tell you that you will get bravely over all preconceived opinions on love. It is like faith; must be experienced to be understood. So good-night and happy dreams.”
CHAPTER VI
IN the morning the panorama presented was one of unusual beauty. All nature was enveloped in snow of the purest white. The flats below were a dazzling sea in the bright sunlight. The two gaunt pines, through which the wind had sighed so dismally the night before, now appeared like white-robed sentinels on guard at the gate. The air was balmy and the drip, drip, drip of water from the eaves and window-ledges proclaimed that this vision of fairyland would be a transient one.
A happy group gathered around the breakfast table. Granny had instructed Margaret in the art of preparing buckwheat cakes and a smoking pile of them soon appeared. Her skill in the culinary art was proverbial. No one could make anything taste quite as Margaret could, and she was duly proud of her proficiency in this accomplishment.
“Well,” said Mr. De Vere, “how many of us are going to church to-day?”
“From the looks of things outside, I infer the congregation will be a slim one,” said Jack, helping himself to another pancake.
Just then the soft, sweet warble of a bluebird was heard through the open window, and looking out, they saw on the limb of an apple tree this welcome harbinger of spring, singing his plaintively sweet song. While they listened, his mate flew over his head and alighted near on a twig with an audacious flirt, but he kept on singing for fully three minutes, then with a dash of snow they flew away.
“Truly spring is not far off,” observed Mr. De Vere, “but appearances indicate that Reuben will need help in shovelling paths.”