"OH, THAT WORD 'REGRET!'"
"Ah, rosebud mouth for kisses made,
And are you not the least afraid?
And do not know, my little one,
What mischief kisses sweet have done,
O'er all the world and through all time,
In every age and every clime?"
—D. L. Proudfit.
"I think we shall find her here under her favorite tree," said Earle Winans as he and Lord Chester came down toward the river.
It was the morning after the picnic, and Earle had gone after breakfast to the station to meet his friend, Lord Chester.
Precious and Norah, with the ever faithful Kay, had gone down to the river as soon as the dew was dry on the grass.
Precious sat under an apple tree with her dog at her feet. Norah chose another tree close by and resumed her favorite lace knitting.
It was a scene of the most exquisite beauty, and the spirit of peace seemed brooding over the spot.
The orchard trees were pink with bloom, and the soft green grass was studded with violets, pale yellow cowslips and golden buttercups. Overhead arched a sky as blue as that of Italy, and in the sweet warm sunshine the blithe birds were flitting and singing, while the hum of bees in the may blooms blent in the music of the river rippling along at the young girl's feet.
She had taken along a book to read, but she had not opened it yet. She was gazing dreamily at the river, now and then throwing flowers on the swift-flowing stream and watching them drift away out of sight.