Just David [35]
was a place one half so beautiful!"
An odd feeling of uncanniness sent a swift exclamation to the lady's lips.
" 'Down here'! What do you mean by that? You speak as if you came from--above," she almost laughed.
"I did," returned David simply. "But even up there I never found anything quite like this,"--with a sweep of his hands,--"nor like you, O Lady of the Roses," he finished with an admiration that was as open as it was ardent.
This time the lady laughed outright. She even blushed a little.
"Very prettily put, Sir Flatterer" she retorted; "but when you are older, young man, you won't make your compliments quite so broad. I am no Lady of the Roses. I am Miss Holbrook; and--and I am not in the habit of receiving gentlemen callers who are uninvited and--unannounced," she concluded, a little sharply.
Pointless the shaft fell at David's feet. He had turned again to the beauties about him, and at that moment he spied the sundial--something he had never seen before.
"What is it?" he cried eagerly, hurrying forward. "It isn 't exactly pretty, and yet it looks as if 't were meant for--something."
"It is. It is a sundial. It marks the time by the sun."
Even as she spoke, Miss Holbrook wondered why she answered the question at all; why she did not send this small piece of nonchalant impertinence about his business, as he so richly deserved. The next instant she found herself staring at the boy in amazement. With unmistakable ease, and with the trained accent of the scholar, he was reading aloud the Latin inscription on the dial: " 'Horas non numero nisi serenas,' 'I count--no--hours but--unclouded ones,' " he translated then, slowly, though with confidence. "That's pretty; but what does it mean--about 'counting'?"
Miss Holbrook rose to her feet.
"For Heaven's sake, boy, who, and what are you?" she demanded. "Can YOU read Latin?"
"Why, of course! Can't you?" With a disdainful gesture Miss Holbrook swept this aside.
"Boy, who are you?" she demanded again imperatively.
"I'm David. I told you."
"But David who? Where do you live?"
The boy's face clouded.
"I'm David--just David. I live at Farmer Holly's now; but I did live on the mountain with--father, you know."
A great light of understanding broke over Miss Holbrook's face. She dropped back into her seat.
"Oh, I remember," she murmured. "You're the little--er--boy whom he took. I have heard the story. So THAT is who you are," she added, the old look of aversion coming back to her eyes. She had almost said "the little tramp boy"--but she had stopped in time.
"Yes. And now what do they mean, please,--those words,-- 'I count no hours but unclouded ones'?"
Miss Holbrook stirred in her seat and frowned.
"Why, it means what it says, of course, boy. A sundial counts its hours by the shadow the sun throws, and when there is no sun there is no shadow; hence it's only the sunny hours that are counted by the dial," she explained a little fretfully.
David's face radiated delight.
"Oh, but I like that!" he exclaimed.
"You like it!"
"Yes. I should like to be one myself, you know."
"Well, really! And how, pray?" In spite of herself a faint gleam of interest came into Miss Holbrook's eyes.
David laughed and dropped himself easily to the ground at her feet. He was holding his violin on his knees now.
"Why, it would be such fun," he chuckled, "to just forget all about the hours when the sun didn't shine, and remember only the nice, pleasant ones. Now for me, there wouldn't be any hours, really, until after four o'clock, except little specks of minutes that I'd get in between when I DID see something interesting."
Miss Holbrook stared frankly.
"What an extraordinary boy you are, to be sure," she murmured. "And what, may I ask, is it that you do every day until four o'clock, that you wish to forget? "
David sighed.
"Well, there are lots of things. I hoed potatoes and corn, first, but they're too big now, mostly; and I pulled up weeds, too, till they were gone. I've been picking up stones, lately, and clearing
An odd feeling of uncanniness sent a swift exclamation to the lady's lips.
" 'Down here'! What do you mean by that? You speak as if you came from--above," she almost laughed.
"I did," returned David simply. "But even up there I never found anything quite like this,"--with a sweep of his hands,--"nor like you, O Lady of the Roses," he finished with an admiration that was as open as it was ardent.
This time the lady laughed outright. She even blushed a little.
"Very prettily put, Sir Flatterer" she retorted; "but when you are older, young man, you won't make your compliments quite so broad. I am no Lady of the Roses. I am Miss Holbrook; and--and I am not in the habit of receiving gentlemen callers who are uninvited and--unannounced," she concluded, a little sharply.
Pointless the shaft fell at David's feet. He had turned again to the beauties about him, and at that moment he spied the sundial--something he had never seen before.
"What is it?" he cried eagerly, hurrying forward. "It isn 't exactly pretty, and yet it looks as if 't were meant for--something."
"It is. It is a sundial. It marks the time by the sun."
Even as she spoke, Miss Holbrook wondered why she answered the question at all; why she did not send this small piece of nonchalant impertinence about his business, as he so richly deserved. The next instant she found herself staring at the boy in amazement. With unmistakable ease, and with the trained accent of the scholar, he was reading aloud the Latin inscription on the dial: " 'Horas non numero nisi serenas,' 'I count--no--hours but--unclouded ones,' " he translated then, slowly, though with confidence. "That's pretty; but what does it mean--about 'counting'?"
Miss Holbrook rose to her feet.
"For Heaven's sake, boy, who, and what are you?" she demanded. "Can YOU read Latin?"
"Why, of course! Can't you?" With a disdainful gesture Miss Holbrook swept this aside.
"Boy, who are you?" she demanded again imperatively.
"I'm David. I told you."
"But David who? Where do you live?"
The boy's face clouded.
"I'm David--just David. I live at Farmer Holly's now; but I did live on the mountain with--father, you know."
A great light of understanding broke over Miss Holbrook's face. She dropped back into her seat.
"Oh, I remember," she murmured. "You're the little--er--boy whom he took. I have heard the story. So THAT is who you are," she added, the old look of aversion coming back to her eyes. She had almost said "the little tramp boy"--but she had stopped in time.
"Yes. And now what do they mean, please,--those words,-- 'I count no hours but unclouded ones'?"
Miss Holbrook stirred in her seat and frowned.
"Why, it means what it says, of course, boy. A sundial counts its hours by the shadow the sun throws, and when there is no sun there is no shadow; hence it's only the sunny hours that are counted by the dial," she explained a little fretfully.
David's face radiated delight.
"Oh, but I like that!" he exclaimed.
"You like it!"
"Yes. I should like to be one myself, you know."
"Well, really! And how, pray?" In spite of herself a faint gleam of interest came into Miss Holbrook's eyes.
David laughed and dropped himself easily to the ground at her feet. He was holding his violin on his knees now.
"Why, it would be such fun," he chuckled, "to just forget all about the hours when the sun didn't shine, and remember only the nice, pleasant ones. Now for me, there wouldn't be any hours, really, until after four o'clock, except little specks of minutes that I'd get in between when I DID see something interesting."
Miss Holbrook stared frankly.
"What an extraordinary boy you are, to be sure," she murmured. "And what, may I ask, is it that you do every day until four o'clock, that you wish to forget? "
David sighed.
"Well, there are lots of things. I hoed potatoes and corn, first, but they're too big now, mostly; and I pulled up weeds, too, till they were gone. I've been picking up stones, lately, and clearing