"But for the fun of it," persisted Edna. "First of all, the sight of the
water stretching so far away, those motionless sails against the blue
sky, made a delicious picture that I just wanted to sit and look at. The
hot wind beating in my face made me think--without any connection that I
can trace of a summer day in Kentucky, of a meadow that seemed as big as
the ocean to the very little girl walking through the grass, which was
higher than her waist. She threw out her arms as if swimming when she
walked, beating the tall grass as one strikes out in the water. Oh, I
see the connection now!"

"Where were you going that day in Kentucky, walking through the grass?"

"I don't remember now. I was just walking diagonally across a big field.
My sun-bonnet obstructed the view. I could see only the stretch of green
before me, and I felt as if I must walk on forever, without coming to
the end of it. I don't remember whether I was frightened or pleased. I
must have been entertained.

"Likely as not it was Sunday," she laughed; "and I was running away from
prayers, from the Presbyterian service, read in a spirit of gloom by my
father that chills me yet to think of."

"And have you been running away from prayers ever since, ma chere?"
asked Madame Ratignolle, amused.

"No! oh, no!" Edna hastened to say. "I was a little unthinking child in
those days, just following a misleading impulse without question. On the
contrary, during one period of my life religion took a firm hold upon
me; after I was twelve and until-until--why, I suppose until now, though