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exclaimed playfully. "It is the very first of the season, I just found it this morning, and we shall see how well you remember old comrades."
There came a quick happy little laugh. "Oh, Ronald, it is laurel; the dear mountain laurel come back! Oh, I am so glad! Now see how well I know it:—the green leaves are dark and thick and glossy, and the lovely white flowers are sort of crepe-y, and have little knobs of—of—" the voice trailed off into puzzled silence.
"Why, you know the color, Dorothy," cried the boy; "It begins with—"
"No, no, don't tell me! I don't want you to! I want to know it just my own self. Now wait while I think back—just how they looked."
There was a short silence, then the voice came again, choked by
