“Yes, papa.”
“Well, Harry, each of those rings show the growth of the tree during one year; for each year a new ring or layer of wood and a ring of bark is formed.”
“But, papa, I only see one bark!”
“Yes, my boy, as the new wood and bark is formed the old bark is pushed further out to make room for the ring, and soon the old bark sheds its coat; that is, part of its skin drops off.”
Papa’s tree talk was just then interrupted by a merry shout from the hay-field, and poor Bear looked up so wistfully, yet patiently, in his father’s face, that he said,—
“Dear boy, you would so like to join them. It seems cruel to keep you here.”
“Oh! no, Papa, I don’t so much mind. It’s so sweet and beautiful here, and the wind blows so soft on my forehead, it seems as if it was God’s breath. No, I really don’t mind much, and sister Daisy will tell me all about it. Oh, Papa, you don’t know about Daisy! Every night, after I go to bed, she comes and sits by my side till I am asleep, so I won’t miss Mamma, and she smooths my hair and says softly in my ear, ‘Daisy’s own little comfort,’ and then, somehow, my back doesn’t seem to ache, and I go straight to sleep, and just to think of it, she hasn’t said ‘I told you so,’ not one single time! Oh, Papa! our Daisy is so kindly affectioned one to another. Why, there’s Hugh hurrying back from the field. What can the matter be?”
“Mr. John, can I speak a moment alone with you?”
“Certainly, Hugh.”