"I don't see um," said Katie, stretching her neck and looking in vain for a church.
"'The groves were God's first temples,'" repeated Mr. Parlin, reverently. "These trees have no undergrowth of shrubs, like our New England trees."
"But, O, look! look, papa! What is that long green dangle, dripping down from up high? No, swinging up from down low?'
"Yes, what is um, Uncle Eddard?"
"That is a mistletoe-vine embracing a hickory tree. It is called a 'tree-thief,' because it steals its food from the tree it grows upon."
"Why, papa, I shouldn't think 'twas a thief, for the tree knows it. A thief comes in the night, when there doesn't anybody know it. I should think 'twas a beggar."
"I fink so too," said Flyaway, straining her eyes to look at she knew not what. "I fink um ought to ask pease."
"All this tract of country where we are riding now," said Mrs. Clifford, "was overflowed last spring by the river. It is called 'bottom land,' and is extremely rich."
"I never thought the Hoojers had a very clean, blue, pretty river," said Dotty, thoughtfully; "it looks some like a mud-puddle. Perhaps it carried off too much of this dirt."
"Muddy-puddil," replied Katie, "full of dirt."