"Did you live in San Francisco then?"

"No. I just went there."

"I think I guess. You went on purpose to help?"

"I felt as if every man ought to do what he could. I couldn't do much.
Shall we go on making believe?"

"You don't like talking of your good deeds."

"Oh, good deeds! I don't like talking of myself when there are better
things to talk of. I could make you out a tour in the Yosemite, Mrs. May.
You shouldn't travel by the ordinary stages. I'd get you something
special, for the driving parts; and you should have the finest trail pony
in California. I'd give ten years off my life to show you the Big Trees.
There are some mighty fine ones in other places, you know; the Santa Cruz
forest is splendid. But it's the Mariposa Big Trees, in the Yosemite, I
mean. We'd drive from Wawona early in the morning, one day, and stay till
the sunset. You can't think what sunset's like among the giant Sequoias,
with the red light, like a rain of ruby stars, falling through the
branches. And those trees are God's own architecture. I guess even you
have never seen a cathedral to touch it; because there can't be one. All
day you should stay in the forest. I'd find you places for lunch and
dinner, and the squirrels would come and help you eat."

"It does sound nice," said Angela, bewitched by the picture.

"It would be--the nicest thing that ever happened. Only 'nice' ain't a big