“OH, MRS. BURBANK! WHAT BEAUTIFUL PIECES!” CRIED LINDA. “WHERE DID THEY ALL COME FROM?”
Her father said to her, as he rose from the table after breakfast:
“Linda, would you like a ride, my dear? I am going to drive over to East Berlin, and I will take you along, if you would like to go.”
“If I would like it! Why, papa, you know there isn’t anything that I like so much as a good, long ride with you!” cried Linda, dancing with delight, as she ran off to get ready for the drive.
For it was indeed a “good long” ride to East Berlin—fifteen miles at least—and
the day was just as fresh and bright and lovely as a day could be in the fresh and bright and lovely month of May.
The young grass was emerald green along the country roads, the apple trees were all in sheets of bloom, hill-sides were fairly blue with bird-foot violets, and sweet spring flowers were smiling everywhere.
Linda was so full of happiness that she could scarcely keep from singing in concert with the birds that trilled and chirped among the trees on either hand, as the pleasant road led through a piece of woodland.