“Perhaps it is in ourselves,” Jennie said. “You have not forgotten what Mr. Kirby said: ‘If we think good and happy thoughts, we shall look through such a medium that every thing about us will wear the same hue.’”
“I like to hear you repeat what Mr. Kirby said,” I continued. “Sometimes I am afraid that I am forgetting him.”
“We both owe Mr. Kirby more than anybody else in the world. We must never forget him.”
Harry had been walking round the flower beds with grandma. They stopped near us, and she said, “You have grown tall, Marston, and I hear people say that you are getting to be a fine scholar. I do not know much of books, but I have picked up a verse that I want you to think of: ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’”
“And you too,” she continued, addressing Harry. “You will both make better men for heeding it.”
“So my mother says,” was Harry’s reply.
We did not see Frank Clavers, neither hear any thing of the excursionists. At parting Jennie gave us a basket of strawberries for Mrs. Harlan, and stood with cheeks flushed and eyes misty with tears, the gold brown curls waving over her white shoulders.
“The prettiest picture that I have ever seen,” said Harry as we drove away. “You may well be proud of your sister, Marston.”
“And so I am,” I replied. “The best of all, she is as good as she is beautiful.”