a locust! And that’s a redbird’s note. There he is, like a red blossom in those bushes. There — no, there. You will look in the wrong direction, James, and now he’s gone. You remember what David Thryng wrote? ‘It’s good just to be alive.’ He’s always saying that, and now I understand — in such a place as this. Oh, just breathe the air, James!”

“I certainly can’t help doing that, dear.” The bishop was puffing a little over the climb his slight young wife took so easily.

“I don’t care. Here I’ve lived in cities all my life, while you have lived down here, and it has lost its charm to you. Only think of all this gorgeous display of nature just for these mountain people, and what is it to them?”