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"I hope I haven't done any damage?"

The golden head shook slowly.


"No, I am through for to-day; there is no more I can do. If I could have had just another half-hour, another ten minutes!" she said, wistfully.

"I sincerely wish I were—what's-his-name, the Bible chap, you know, so I might command the sun to stand still for you."

She smiled.

"That might be dangerous," she said, lightly. "You might forget the formula for starting it on again."

"Would it matter?" he asked, softly. "To have it always like this, fresh, green and golden, and pink and blue, with a little south wind stirring the leaves, and the birds singing their hearts out,—would that be so bad?"

"I wonder," she said, dreamily,

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