"And so they wave their caps to us as we go off."
"Oh!" said the girl delightedly. "And is it really like that, I wonder?"
"Yes, of course. Only you mustn't say anything. We must go home now—then we can talk all about it after.
"And we go up the hill and start off down the other side.
"When we get down on the flat, you begin putting on the pace, to see if you can go as fast as I can—and it's all I can do to keep up with you. And your cheeks are red as roses, and you're so hot you take off your kerchief and fasten it round your waist like a sash. And there you are running beside me, bareheaded, and your bright hair lifting as you go. I've never seen you look so beautiful before, and I tell you so. You ought to be like that always.
"And so we come home, as happy as can be…. And here we are!"
"You can make stories!" cried the girl. "It was wonderful! Just as if we'd really been there and seen it all."
"Ah, we'll do it really one day, we must. And it'll be ever so much easier then, after you've seen it once to-day."
"No, no! I never can, I know."
"Wait and see," said he. "Now you know what a grand life it is in the forest in winter. A glorious life—though there's trouble, too, at times—danger and hurt; but who cares for that? Do you wonder that I'm always in high spirits when I come home? And when I am here, why, 'tis just like another little world, as clean and fresh as there…. Daisy—sit here, and let me look at you."