“I shall never look at clover again without thinking of all this.”
“Soul, law, intelligence, God—I think all those names mean pretty near the same, and Heavenly Father iss best of all. Plant, bird, man,—all are in God’s hant. All are brothers. One plant likes one thing. Another plant likes it not, but something else. Each helps all.”
“Yes, I begin to see,” Max said, his face shining with understanding.
“Those maple trees mit big tops—alone mit a big wind they fall mebbe; tied together mit many roots they stand.”
“And for such needs are clubs, societies, and——”
“That iss right! How quick you see, Max!”
The car interrupted them, and she left him, waving her smart umbrella in good-by. From her face beamed a love for him, for all humanity, that as yet he could but half appreciate; yet her words had made a deep impression.
When he returned to the house he found Sydney washing the dishes. “Here! Let me bear a hand.” He caught the towel and began to dry the plates.
Sydney was silent, for a scheme was growing, the making of the marmalade.