"No one. If one could paint Him, He would no longer be great," answered
the girl, resting her sober eyes upon Ruth's enraptured countenance.

One afternoon Ruth took a book and Ethel over the tramway to this fairy
spot. It was very warm and still. Mrs. Levice had swung herself to sleep
in the hammock, and Mr. Levice was dozing and talking in snatches to the
Tyrrells, who were likewise resting on the Levices' veranda. All Nature
was drowsy, as Ruth wandered off with the little one, who chattered on as
was her wont.

"Me and you's yunnin' away," she chatted; "we's goin' to a fowest, and by
and by two 'ittle birdies will cover us up wid leaves. My! Won't my mamma
be sorry? No darlin' 'ittle Ethel to pank and tiss no more. Poor Mamma!"

"Does Ethel think Mamma likes to spank her?"

"Yes; Mamma does des what she likes."

"But it is only when Ethel is naughty that Mamma spanks her. Here,
sweetheart, let me tie your sunbonnet tighter. Now Ruth is going to lie
here and read, and you can play hide-and-seek all about these trees."

"Can I go wound and sit on dat log by a bwook?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I's afwaid. I's dweffully afwaid."

"Why, you can turn round and talk to me all the time."