In spring and summer the daisy blooms—this one bloomed in the winter too.
"And I know, and you know why you bloom in the winter," said the girl.
"'Tis to smile at him in greeting."
The daisy blooms only a few months together … this one was in flower already when Christmas came, and flowered the rest of the winter through, more beautiful every day.
"And I know, and you know how long you will bloom. 'Twas when I set you here at first it all began … and when he is gone, and there's none for you to smile at any more, then it will all be over.'"
The girl bent lower over the flower.
"She has but a single flower—so neat and sweet," she whispered, pressing her delicate lips to the pale posy petals just unfolded.
"She has but a single friend—so tender and dear," smiled the flower in answer, nodding slowly over toward the fields.
A tall youth on ski came gliding by, his cap at the back of his head, and a knapsack strapped at his shoulders.
"At last!" cried the girl, and jumping down, ran out through the passage to the steps in front of the house.
"Daisy!" said the newcomer. His voice was hardly audible, but his eyes spoke plainly enough, as he stepped up and set his ski and staves against the wall.