The guest was evidently pleased with the arrangement, for he ate heartily of the delicious green things that he found in his apartment.
When the children had finished, they withdrew to the screen of a blasted oak and sat rigidly still, watching the birds fly down and carry away the crumbs of the feast.
Later, they made little rafts of chips gathered from the river, furnished them with paper sails and pebbly cargoes, and set them afloat for Spain, Africa, and Jamaica.
Finally, George drew from the breast of his jacket a faded, ragged book, and lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story of Robert Bruce, while Mary leaned against a tree near by and listened. Before the reader had reached the climax of the tale, he glanced over his book, only to discover the little girl fast asleep against her tree, with her lap full of wild flowers. Forbearing to disturb her, George finished the story in silence. Then the book slipped from his hands and he, too, stretched on the cool grass, with a few stray sunbeams flickering across him, sank down, down, to the land of dreams.
"Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story."
A sociable whinny roused the boy at length, and scrambling up by aid of a slender sapling, he noticed that the shadows had greatly lengthened during his nap.