"But I mean—do you feel like talking—about anything?"
"Depends on the subject, Maggie. Hark to that woodpecker!"
"Mr. Murray does not feel like talking, I know," remarked Flora. "He feels—if he ever feels!—lazy."
"No, Miss Flora, not exactly. And yet, how delicious this quiet is!"
"And the smell of the pines!"
"And the warm, luxurious air!"
"And the light through the pine branches, and upon the coloured leaves yonder."
"Yes, and the blue of the sky," said Mr. Murray, who lying upon his back had a good view. "Blue, through the pine needles. Such an ethereal, clear blue; not like summer's intensity."
"I like summer best," said Flora.
"I like this. But what did you want to talk about, children?"