In this pleasant way they strolled along the brook which stole by in sun and shadow, over mossy rocks, and under bulrushes, where the minnows haunted—which brook, tradition (and the maps) call to-day by the name of one member of that party; and so, passing over the slip of meadow, where Verty declared the hares were accustomed to gambol by moonlight, once more came again toward the locust-grove of "dear old Apple Orchard,"—(Fanny's phrase,)—and entered in again, and threw down their treasures of bright flowers and bird's-nests—for they had taken some old ones from the trees—and laughed, sang, and were happy.
"Why! what a day!" cried Ralph; "if we only had a kite now!"
"A kite!" cried Fanny.
"Yes."
"An elegant college gentleman—"
"Oh—suspend the college gentleman, if I may use the paraphrase," said Mr. Ralph; "why can't you permit a man to return again, my heart's delight, to his far youth."
"Far youth."
"Ages ago—but in spite of that, I tell you I want to see a fine kite sailing up there."
"Make it, then!"
"By Jove! I will, if Miss Redbud will supply—"