Ellen stopped him again, by laughing at his wastefulness; and
so they came to the wood. She left him then to do as he liked,
while she ran hither and thither to search for flowers. It was
slow getting through the wood. He was fain to stop and wait
for her.
"Aren't these lovely?" said Ellen, as she came up with her
hands full of anemones — "and look — there's the liverwort. I
thought it must be out before now — the dear little thing! —
but I can't find any blood-root, Mr. Van Brunt."
"I guess they're gone," said Mr. Van Brunt.
"I suppose they must," said Ellen. "I am sorry; I like them so
much. Oh, I believe I did get them earlier than this two years
ago, when I used to take so many walks with you. Only think of
my not having been to look for flowers before, this spring."
"It hadn't ought to ha' happened so, that's a fact," said Mr.
Van Brunt; "I don't know how it has."
"Oh! there are my yellow bells!" exclaimed Ellen — "oh, you
beauties! Aren't they, Mr. Van Brunt?"
"I won't say but what I think an ear of wheat's handsomer,"
said he, with his half smile.
"Why, Mr. Van Brunt! How can you? — but an ear of wheat's
pretty, too. Oh, Mr. Van Brunt, what _is_ that? Do you get me
some of it, will you, please? Oh, how beautiful! — what is
it?"
"That's black birch," said he; " '_tis_ kind o' handsome; —
stop, I'll find you some oak blossoms directly.
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