birds in their flight up the river to find myself on the verge of a mystery, the banks at my feet can never disclose.”
“May the gates of God’s Paradise never recede as those would do, my child, if like the birds you attempted to pierce them.”
“Paula is a dreamer,” quoth Miss Belinda in a matter-of-fact tone, “but she is a good girl notwithstanding and can solve a geometrical problem with the best.”
“And sew on the machine and make a very good pie,” timidly put in Miss Abby.
“That is well,” laughed Mr. Sylvester, observing that the poor child’s head had fallen forward in maidenly shame at her aunts’ elogiums as well as at the length of the speech into which she had been betrayed. “It shows that her eyes can see what is at hand as well as what is beyond our reach.” Then with a touch of his usual formal manner intended to restore her to herself, “Do you like study, Paula?”