he grass. I kept
myself hid, and peeped through a knot-hole. She had a basket on her arm,
and looked about, and took a few steps softly, this way and that, as if
looking for somebody. At last I came out, innocent as a lamb. "Good
morning, Elinor," says I. "Have you forgot the roses, Walter?" says she,
a little bashful. As if I could forget the roses! The hills were all
scattered over with children and young people; for it was a fine
morning, and the roses were in their prime.

The sun shone, the children shouted, the birds sang, and the air was
cool and fresh. It is good to be with the day at its beginning. Elinor
laughed, and chatted, and danced up hill and down hill, and snapped her
scissors, and snapped off the roses, and stuck the prettiest in her hair
and in her apron-string, till at last I told her she looked like a
rose-bush all in bloom.

* * * * *

_June 11._--To-day Elinor and Frederic walked to meeting together. He
had on his new things, and she had on a white chip hat with blue inside
and outside, and blue ribbons tied under her chin, and a white gown, and
a white mantle. Everybody in the meeting-house was looking at them, and
several times the minister's eyes appeared to be directed that way. I
could hardly tell preaching from praying, and once I let the pew-seat
slam down in prayer-time. 'T would be better if they couldn't turn up at
all, and then there wouldn't be such a rattling and clattering the
minute the minister says, "Amen."

'T was a young preacher. I hope our minister won't exchange with him
very often. He is too young to give satisfaction,--under thirty, I
should judge.

* * * * *

_August 10._--The summer is passing. It has brought me plenty of work
and but little pleasure. Elinor has had much out-of-town
company,--frolicking girls and sometimes their brothers. They often come
out to rake hay or ride in the cart.

My diary has been neglected. I don't believe anybody writes down their
unhappiest feelings, especially when they don't know justly what they
are unhappy about.

Something about Elinor. And what is it about Elinor? Do I want to become
to her what Frederic is to Lucy? Do I want to make her "Mrs. Poor'us"?
Do I want to drag her down and keep her plodding all her days, clad in a
homespun gown, and she fit to be a lady in her silks and satins? What is
it I would be at?

* * * * *

_Se