The country was in the full glory of early summer. Just beyond the rich green of the great cornfield could be seen the peaceful river. The yellowing grain on the upland waved gently in the breeze. Under the wide-spreading oak trees in the pasture the cows were lazily chewing their cuds. A feeling of quiet pleasure filled the air.
"I planted all these trees," said Mr. Leonard as they walked under the maples that grew on either side of the road. "It is wonderful how they have grown. They were like little sticks when I set them out."
"The one at the end of the row," said Mrs. Leonard, "was planted the day
Frank was born."
"It is the largest of them all," said Frank.
"That's because it was planted first," said Susie. "I have a tree, too, uncle."
"So have I," said Donald. "It is the spruce in the front yard."
"We call them our birthday trees," said Susie. "Mine is the elm by the corner of the porch."
"That is a very nice custom," said Uncle Robert. "But the trees grow faster than you do."
"They don't have anything to do but grow," said Donald.
When they reached the bridge they paused to look up and down the creek valley. Through the trees they caught glimpses of the shining river and the waving corn. The creek, a little stream, flowed between the two gentle slopes that formed its valley.