"Not your case," said Norton, politely nodding at her.
"Don't depend upon your word," said Judy scornfully.
"Not at all," rejoined Norton; "it is open to the most hasty observer."
"Is Matilda queer?" Esther asked laughing.
"She'd never let the world go to sleep," said Norton contentedly; "at least, not till all could sleep comfortably."
They laughed at that, and Matilda as much as anybody.
"But what did you mean, Norton," she said, "about the bulbs and the country?"
"Just what I said. It's the most mysterious thing, the way the roots down in the earth know when it is time for them to send up their green shoots. They will do it, too, and when things aren't ready for them by any means above ground. Spring may be ever so late, and the earth hard packed with frost, and snow and clouds making you believe it is winter yet; and there will come the little green shoots pushing up their heads and telling you they know what time of year it is, better than you do. How they get up through the frozen earth is more than I know. I tell you, they are queer."
"Then you mean something good by being queer, Norton," Matilda said.
"Don't know about that; they are ahead of the year, you see, and that don't always do. They have a hard time of it, sometimes."