Nancy also was very happy. There, in front of her, was the delightful
pile of earth and sand untouched, it seemed. In an instant, regardless
of her frock, she was down upon her knees.

"I ought to have a spade," she said.

"You'll make yourself dreadfully dirty, Nancy. Your beautiful frock----"
But he had nevertheless the feeling that, after all, he had paid for it,
and if he hadn't the right to see it ruined, who had?

"Oh!" she murmured with the ecstasy of one who has abandoned herself,
freely and with a glad heart, to all the vices. She dug her hands into
the mire, she scattered it about her, she scooped and delved and
excavated. It was her intention to build something in the nature of a
high, high hill. She patted the surface of the sand, and behold! it was
instantly a beautiful shape, very smooth and shining.

It was hot, her hat fell back, her knees were thick with the good brown
earth--that once lovely creation of Florice was stained and black.

She then began softly, partly to herself, partly to her father, and
partly to that other Friend who had helped her to these splendours, a
song of joy and happiness. To the ordinary observer, it might have
seemed merely a discordant noise proceeding from a little girl engaged
in the making of mud pies. It was, in reality, as the chestnut tree, the
birds, the fountain, the flowers, the various small children, even the
very earth she played with, understood, a fine offering--thanksgiving
and triumphal pæan to the God of Heaven, of the earth, and of the waters
that were under the earth.