at rings
a long way off, you can only just hear it out here--_The sound of a
far-away bell_. Then the leaves--it _was_ a long time before anything
came that I could sing about them. I used to try and think it, but you
can't sing a thing you think. It's when a thing comes, you can sing
it. I was always listening to the leaves, and I always felt they were
doing something; then all at once it came one day. Of course they were
whispering--_The whispering leaves on the trees_. That was how they
came, papa. At first I used to sing them by themselves; but now I sing
them all together. You can sing them three different ways--the way I
did first, you know, then you can put _breeze_ first--

The swish of the grass in the breeze,
The whispering leaves on the trees,
The song of the sea in the shell,
The sound of a far-away bell.

Or you can sing--

The sound of a far-away bell,
The whispering leaves on the trees,
The swish of the grass in the breeze,
The song of the sea in the shell.

Which way do you think the nicest?" She had rattled all this off as
fast as she could speak, looking and pointing towards the various
things she mentioned as she proceeded, the sea, the grass, the trees,
the distance; now she looked up to her father for an answer. He was
looking at her so queerly, she was filled with alarm. "Am I naughty,
papa?" she exclaimed.

"Oh no," he said, with a smile that reassured her. "I was just
thinking. I like to hear how 'things come' to you. You must always
tell me--when new things come. By the way, who told you that fuchsia
was salmon-coloured?"

"I _saw_ it was," she said, surprised that he needed to ask such a
question. "I saw it one day when we had boiled salmon for dinner.
Isn't it nice when you see that one thing's like another? I have a
pebble, and it's just the shape of a pear--now you know what shape it
is, don't you?" He nodded. "But if I said it's thick at one end and
thin at another, you wouldn't know what shape it is a bit, would you?"

"No, I should not," he answered, beginning to prune again,
thoughtfully. "Beth," he said presently, "I should like to see you
grow up."

"Shan't I grow up?" said Beth in dismay.

"Oh yes--at least I should hope so. But--it's not likely that _I_
shall be--looking on. But, Beth, I want you to remember this. When you
grow up, I think you will want to do something that only a few other
people can do well--paint a picture, write