"
"The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled,"
Rose quoted. "You know the rest, don't you?"
"The rest doesn't matter. 'Morning waits at the end of the world--Gypsy,
come away!'"
"I'll go," she breathed, her eyes fixed on his, "anywhere!"
"To the river, then. The last time I saw it, ice and snow had hidden it
completely."
The path was narrow until they got out of the woods, so Rose went ahead.
"I don't believe I fooled that robin by whistling to him," Allison
continued. "He pretended I did, but I believe he was only trying to be
polite."
"He wasn't, if it was the same robin I saw in our garden this morning. I
spoke to him most pleasantly and told him not to be afraid of me, but he
disappeared with a very brief, chirpy good-bye."
"Don't hurry so," he said, as he came up beside her and assisted her
over a fallen tree. "We've got the whole day, haven't we?"
"We have all the time there is," laughed Rose. "Everybody has, for that
matter."
"Have you had your breakfast?"
"No, have you?"
"Far from it.
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