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summer he brings some to me and I describe them and try to see them in my mind, so that I shall not forget how they look,"—the little lips began to tremble again, "And this morning, for the first time, I found that I had forgotten one of them,—my dear mountain laurel,—and oh, it hurt so, and I am so afraid that I shall lose them all by and by, and forget how Ronald looks, and mamma, and everything—" Here the sobs began afresh.
The lady pressed her lips to the moist little forehead, rocking her gently to and fro.
"I—I'm sorry to bother you so," the little girl said, her voice catching piteously. "I don't know why you should care about it at all, but you do,—I could tell by your kiss."
