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Flash seemed to be whispering it all to Brindle just after. They had their heads close together, and were as cosy and loving as could be; and they looked around now and then at the party in the distance, as if they were sorry ever to lose such kind and appreciative friends from view.
Mr. and Mrs. Reed lingered under an old apple-tree where the market-cart was standing. Gill had brought it there the night before, thinking to gather the apples to-day. Above it the branches spread out with a wealth of ruddy fruit.
“Let us rest here for awhile,” said mamma. “It is so pleasant.”
Papa helped her up into the cart, and got in beside her; and the children followed, and all sat upon the edge, as humble as the little turkeys that aspired to the topmost bough of the tree, yet were content with their lowly position. The turkeys had been exalted long before now, and sat every night on their lofty perch, with the heavens and the stars nearer. I suppose that always happens when one humbles himself, and then is lifted up,—the glory comes surely closer to him.
But about my little party in the meadow! Was there ever such pleasure to the children? To see papa and mamma sitting with them on the edge of the cart, as happy and contented as if it were a throne!
That is the beauty of older companionship,—when grown people can come down to the tiny level, and really enjoy the descent.
“You look about as young as Sally,” said Mr. Reed, observing the fresh color in his wife’s cheeks, and the sparkle in her eye.
“It is rejuvenating to be out here with the children,” returned she.