to come out here to my quiet country home, to pull me out of my comfortable easy-chair and trot me around after puppy dogs and other nonsense!" and he frowned harder than ever, shaking his cane fiercely at the laughing children, who knew very well that this was only fun, and that he was really glad to go with them. They thought it a fine joke, and went skipping merrily along, one on each side of him. They had gone but a few steps from the house, when Bessie stood still, exclaiming, —
"Oh, how pretty, how pretty! Look, grandpapa! look, Maggie!"
It was indeed a pretty sight that she saw. Just in front of them stood two tall trees which grew straight upwards for some distance and then leaned a little towards each other, so that at the top their branches wove themselves together, making an arch. Over each tree ran a Virginia creeper, or grass vine, winding round and round the trunks, spreading over the branches, and when they could find nothing more to cling to, throwing out long sprays and tendrils, which waved gracefully about in the gentle breeze coming up from the river. Although it was only the middle of September, there had been several cool, frosty nights, and the leaves of the vine were already of a bright crimson. The trees were still quite green, and the contrast between their color and the red of the vine was very beautiful.
"Oh, who did it, grandpapa?" said Bessie. "Who painted those leaves? Did Donald?"
"No, darling, no hand of man could paint that. This is the Lord's doing, and it is indeed marvellous in our eyes."
"Do you mean our Father in heaven did it, grandpapa?"
"Yes, dear, it was the great and loving Father, who has not only made his earth to bring forth food and drink for all his creatures, but has also made it so beautiful that it may please and delight our eyes."
"But," said Maggie, in great astonishment, "that vine used to be all green just like the tree. How did it come red?"
"I will tell you," said grandpapa. "Do you know what the sap is?"
"No, sir."
Mr. Duncan looked around him, and then, taking his knife from his pocket, cut a slip from a tall plant which grew near. He pressed it with his thumb and finger, and a small whitish drop oozed slowly out from the end which had been cut.
"See there," he said, "that is the sap or juice of the plant. It is in every tree or bush, and goes running through the trunk, branches, and leaves much as the blood runs through the veins in your body. All through the summer it keeps the branches moist and the leaves fresh and green; but it does not like the cold, and when the frost comes, it runs away from the leaves. Then they begin to turn, some red, some yellow, some brown. Our pretty creepers here are among the first to feel the cold; and they turn sooner than the trees over which they grow. As the weather becomes colder, the sap goes farther and farther away, back through the branches and down through the trunk till it reaches the roots, where it lies snug and close in its winter home under the warm earth. Then the leaves shrivel up and lose their bright colors and fall to the ground. If you break a branch from a tree in winter, it will snap more easily than it will in the summer, because it is dry and brittle from the loss of its sap. All through the cold weather the sap keeps hidden quietly away in the roots; but in the spring when the air grows mild and pleasant, it begins to stir and move upward again. Up, up it goes through the trunk and branches, till, as the weather grows warmer and warmer, the little buds which hold the young leaves and blossoms begin to show themselves, and at last unfold. Then the small tender leaves peep out and gather strength and life from the soft air and bright sunshine and gentle rain, till the trees and bushes are covered with their beautiful green dress and make a pleasant shade for my Maggie and Bessie when they come out to see their old grandpapa at Riverside."
"And give us pretty flowers to smell and look at, and nice fruit to eat," said Bessie.
"Yes, and see how our Father thinks of us and cares for our comfort at every season. If we had not this pleasant shade in the summer, with the soft green for our eyes to rest upon, we could scarcely bear the heat and light of the sun. But in the winter we need all the heat and light we can have; and then, the leaves drop away and let the rays of the sun fall upon the earth to warm and cheer us."
While grandpapa was talking, they had been walking on; and now, as they turned a corner, they saw Donald. He was tying up some dahlias. The little girls ran forward.
"How do you do, Donald?" said Bessie.
"How is the puppy, Donald?" asked Maggie.
"And how's yersel'," said Donald. "Eh, but I'm blithe to see ye aince mair."
"We're well," said Bessie, "and I can yun about now, and my feet don't get so tired as they used to."
"That's gude news," said Donald; "an' noo ye'll be wantin' the wee doggie hame wi' ye. Weel, he's big eneuch; and I think ye may tak' him if yer mither's willin'."
The children understood enough of what Donald was saying to know that he meant they could take the puppy home if their mother would not object; and Maggie hastened to say, "Oh, yes! mamma will let us have him; she quite expects us to take him home, Donald. Could you let us see him now?"
Donald was quite ready, and they all went over to his cottage, where the first thing they saw was Flossy himself, playing on the grass with his two puppy brothers. They all came running up to Donald, as if they were glad to see him, and then went snuffing and smelling about the feet of the children, as if they wanted to find out who these little strangers could be.
In five minutes they were all the best of friends, and Maggie and Bessie were seated upon the grass with the three little dogs jumping, capering, and tumbling about them and over them. Such a frolic as they had, and how the children laughed, and how the puppies barked and yelped and frisked about, while it was hard to say who enjoyed it most, the little girls and the dogs, or grandpapa, Donald, and Alice, who watched them from the cottage steps.
The puppies were all pretty, but Flossy was certainly the prettiest of the three. He was beautifully marked in brown and white, and his coat was already becoming long, silken, and glossy. He was also the most playful and mischievous; and grandpapa told Maggie and Bessie he thought they would have their hands full to keep him out of harm. Once, in the midst of their play, Maggie's hat fell off, and in an instant Flossy had pounced upon it, and, when Maggie tried to take it from him, ran away, dragging it after him. Round and round the house he tore, and they had quite a race to get it from him. At last Donald caught him and took the hat from him; but, alas! it was none the better for its rough journey over the gravel walks. He was next at his own finery. Alice, Donald's wife, had tied about his neck the red ribbon which she kept to dress him with when his little mistresses came to Riverside, but his brothers seemed to think he had no right to be finer than they were, and were all the time pulling and snapping at the ribbon, till at last it came untied. But Flossy had no idea of letting another puppy have that which belonged to himself, and pretty quickly snatched it from them. Off he went again before the children could stop him, and running down in the cellar and behind some barrels, soon had the ribbon torn to bits. Alice was quite vexed when at last she pulled him from his hiding-place, and found the ribbon entirely destroyed; but the children thought him very smart, and did not see why he should not have his fun.
"Eh, but you're an ill beastie!" said Alice, giving Flossy a cuff on the ear.
Bessie's little tender heart was quite grieved. "Alice," she said, "I was 'fraid maybe you'd be sorry when we took Flossy away; but I guess you don't care much; do you?"
"Na, na!" said Alice. "I canna be fashed wi' the three o' them, an' this ane's the warst o' them a'. He's aye in mischief. Didna he lick a' the cream for my mon's breakfast?"
Scarce a word did the children understand, except that Flossy had drank the cream meant for Donald's breakfast,
