"That's like Landolf," said Meredith. "I almost envy men like that old monk."
"Why?"
"All his strength laid out for something worth while—all his life. And think how much he did! And I fret to be doing nothing, and yet I don't know what to do."
"You can ask Uncle Eden when he comes."
"I hope he'll come! Now don't think any more about it, Maggie. This is the prettiest place I ever saw in my life. I want to get out on that water."
"Now?"
"Not now. Some time."
"Oh, we'll all go," said Maggie joyfully. "We might go in the boat somewhere and take our book and our dinner, and have a grand time, Ditto!"
Meredith laughed and said it was all "grand times;" and then he got up and strolled along by the water, picking up flat stones and making ducks and drakes on the smooth, river surface. This was a new pastime to Maggie, and so pleasant to both that they forgot the book and the girls left on the height, and delighted their eye with the dimpling water and ricochetting stones time after time, and could not have enough. At last flat stones began to grow scarce, and Maggie and Meredith remounted to the rest of the party.
"Well!" said Flora, "you've come in good time. We are going home."