"Nothing but beauty, darling."

"What exactly is beauty?"

"What exactly is--Oh! Jon, that's a poser."

"Can I see it, for instance?" His mother got up, and sat beside him.
"You do, every day. The sky is beautiful, the stars, and moonlit nights,
and then the birds, the flowers, the trees--they're all beautiful. Look
out of the window--there's beauty for you, Jon."

"Oh! yes, that's the view. Is that all?"

"All? no. The sea is wonderfully beautiful, and the waves, with their
foam flying back."

"Did you rise from it every day, Mum?"

His mother smiled. "Well, we bathed."

Little Jon suddenly reached out and caught her neck in his hands.

"I know," he said mysteriously, "you're it, really, and all the rest is
make-believe."

She sighed, laughed, said: "Oh! Jon!"

Little Jon said critically: