speaking of healthy energy; and Nora, pale, languid, like a broken lily,
that would be wafted away by the next passing breeze. Mrs. Stanhope
looked at them for a few moments, and then, as the tears rose to her
eyes, she hastened away into the other room.

"Where did you find those beautiful flowers?" asked Nora.

"In the meadow, as I came along; it is full of them; red and white
marguerites and forget-me-nots, such a quantity! you ought to see them!
As soon as you are well enough, we will go and pick forget-me-nots, and
later will come strawberries and then bilberries."

Nora shook her head. "I should not enjoy it."

Emma did not know what to make of this, for she could think of nothing
more delightful, but immediately she bethought herself.

"Oh, of course you don't know how pleasant it is, because you don't have
such flowers where you live, and strawberries don't grow wild there; but
you will enjoy going out to pick them; you can't help it, it seems as if
you could never pick enough; it's such fun that you hate to have it time
to go home."

"Yes, I always think it must be beautiful to be out-of-doors," said Nora
thoughtfully. "But when I go it tires me terribly, and there's not a
bit of fun when I'm all tired out."

Emma looked at her companion as puzzled as if she were speaking in a
foreign tongue. "Tired" was a word unknown to Emma's vocabulary. Her
greatest sorrow when evening came, was that the day was done and she