Much out-of-door life was good
for her, and in garden and green-house there was plenty of light
labor she could do. So she grubbed contentedly in the wholesome
earth, weeding and potting, learning to prune and bud, and finding
Mrs. Wilkins was quite right in her opinion of the sanitary virtues
of dirt.
Trips to town to see the good woman and carry country gifts to the
little folks; afternoon drives with Mrs. Sterling in the
old-fashioned chaise, drawn by the Roman-nosed horse, and Sunday
pilgrimages to church to be "righted up" by one of Mr. Power's
stirring sermons, were among her new pleasures. But, on the whole,
the evenings were her happiest times: for then David read aloud
while she worked; she sung to the old piano tuned for her use; or,
better still, as spring came on, they sat in the porch, and talked
as people only do talk when twilight, veiling the outer world, seems
to lift the curtains of that inner world where minds go exploring,
hearts learn to know one another, and souls walk together in the
cool of the day.
At such times Christie seemed to catch glimpses of another David
than the busy, cheerful man apparently contented with the humdrum
duties of an obscure, laborious life, and the few unexciting
pleasures afforded by books, music, and much silent thought.
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