"No, I want to see Uncle Jim's big tree."
"Oh! he's only Uncle Jim to me. Aunt don't like it. He will tell you some day to call him Uncle Jim. He says I got that as brevet rank the day my mare refused the barnyard fence and pitched me off. I just got on again and made her take it! That's why he's Uncle Jim."
John became thoughtful about that brevet privilege of a remote future. He had, however, persistent ways. "I want to see the big pine, Leila."
"Oh! come on then. It's a long way. We must cut across." He followed her remorselessly swift feet through the leafless bushes and drifts until they came upon a giant pine in a wide space cleared to give the veteran royal solitude. "That's him," cried Leila, and carelessly cast herself down on the snow.
The boy stood still in wonder. Something about the tree disturbed him emotionally. With hands clasped behind his back, he stared up at its towering heights. He was silent.
"What's the matter? What do you see?" She was never long silent. He was searching for a word.
"It's solemn. I like it." He moved forward and patted the huge hole with a feeling of reverence and affection. "I wish he could speak to us. How are you, old fellow?"
Leila watched him. As yet she had no least comprehension of this sense of being kindred to nature. It is rare in youth. As he spoke, a little breeze stirred the old fellow's topmost crest and a light downfall of snow fell on the pair. Leila laughed, but the boy cried, "There! he has answered. We are friends."
"Now, if that isn't Uncle Jim all over. He just does make me laugh."
John shook off the snow. "Let's go home," he said. He Was warm and red with the exercise, and in high good-humour over his success. "Did you never read a poem called 'The Talking Oak'? I had a tutor used to read it to me."