the wood Steve grew keenly reminiscent, as had
become his habit the last few weeks. Forgetting Raymond completely,
the past came back to him vividly; he seemed to feel again Nancy's
confiding trust in him,--and he yearned to know how clearly she
remembered. He looked often upon her as she rode beside him, the two
horses touching noses in the narrow path, but the delicate face
revealed nothing.

"Do you remember," he said at last, "what a veritable slave you made
of me in this old wood?"

She laughed brightly and replied, "Why no, I haven't any such
recollection."

"Well, you knew even then just how to do it," he returned with a bit
of insinuation. "You would look up at the tallest, hardest tree to
climb and see some high-hanging blossom which you coveted, and I
immediately scaled the tree's height to lay the blossom at your
feet."

She laughed again and her cheeks this time flushed a rosy hue,
unaccountably disconcerting to her.

"But that, after all, was as it should have been," he went on after a
moment, smiling. "We men need your bidding to send us to the heights,
always."

"I do not agree with you," she said, recovering her poise instantly;
and summoning a girlish perversity, she led him straightway from
sentiment to the substantial. "Each one must mount up in his own
strength, like these splendid old trees, without prop or help, only
the light from above to draw it upward," and a very demure look
crossed her ever-changing face as she finished the little speech.

"You are right," said Steve smiling and remembering Mrs. Polk's lesson
from the giant beech so long ago. "And yet, after all, many things
help the tree in its growth besides the light from above,--the sun.
There are the winds and the rain, and"--he paused a moment,--"its
mates. Don't you know a tree rarely stands alone unless man has cut
down its companions. They like comradeship. I believe they are
dependent upon it in ways we do not know."

"How stupid of me to forget I was talking with a professor," said
Nancy archly.

"And worse still for me to forget that I was trying to enlighten the
lady who initiated me into the world of books," replied he promptly,
yielding to her mood.

"Oh, how lovely that graceful, clinging vine is," she exclaimed,
ignoring his retort and pointing up to a vine covered tree, while
Steve thrust back into the secret place of his heart all the cherished
memories which the old wood held for him, realizing decidedly tha