n it as if
it was Fair time!"

"When is Fair time?" asked Primrose, as she was putting on a clean
pinafore.

"How you take one up, child! There are fairs and fairs. They started in
England, where all things do. For all we put on such mighty independent
airs we do but follow like a flock of sheep. There, child, run and don't
stand gaping! And mind that you don't attempt to run off with friend
Broadbrim."

She was glad to be clasped in the strong arms and have the hearty kiss
on her forehead.

"It is like a different place without thee," he exclaimed. "I cannot
make the days go fast enough until spring opens and thou come back with
the birds. We are such quiet folk. And here all is gayety. Wilt thou
ever be content again?"

"Is gayety so very wrong, Andrew? It seems quite delightful to me," she
returned wistfully. "And when the ladies move about in their pretty
gowns it is like great flocks of birds, or the meadows with lilies and
daisies and red clover-heads. Why do they have all the bright colors?"

A hint of perplexity crossed her brow.

"Surely I cannot tell. And the woods have been robed in scarlet and
yellow, and such tints of red brown that one could study them by the
hour. And the corn has turned a russet yellow and looks like the tents
of an army. Yes, there are divers colors in the world."

"And sometimes I have wished to be a butterfly. They were so beautiful,
skimming along. God made them surely."

"Yes. But He put no soul in them. Perhaps that was to show His estimate
of fine gear."

Primrose sighed.

"They would make heaven more beautiful. And the singing birds! Oh,
surely, Cousin Andrew, they must be saved."

"Nay, child, such talk is not seemly. What should a thing without a soul
do in heaven where all is praise and worship?"

"And the worship at Christ Church is very nice, with the singing of
psalms and hymns and the people praying together. Why do we not sing,
Andrew?"

He hugged her closer. The soft "we" went to his heart. She had not
identified herself with these people of forms and ceremonies then, nor
quite accepted their "vain repetitions."

"Thou wilt understand better in the course of a few years. There is much
mummery in all of these things. They who worship God truly do it in
spirit and in truth. But tell me what else thou art doing on week-days?"

She told him of her studies. The Latin and French seemed quite useless
to him, although he knew it was taught at the Friends' s