"In doing what your morning-glories do,--climb up as far and as fast
as I can before the frost comes," answered Christie, looking at the
pretty symbols she had chosen.
"You have got on a good way already then," began David, smiling at
her fancy.
"Oh no, I haven't!" she said quickly. "I'm only about half way up.
See here: I'll tell how it is;" and, pointing to the different parts
of the flowery wall, she added in her earnest way: "I've watched
these grow, and had many thoughts about them, as I sit sewing in the
porch. These variegated ones down low are my childish fancies; most
of them gone to seed you see. These lovely blue ones of all shades
are my girlish dreams and hopes and plans. Poor things! some are
dead, some torn by the wind, and only a few pale ones left quite
perfect. Here you observe they grow sombre with a tinge of purple;
that means pain and gloom, and there is where I was when I came
here. Now they turn from those sad colors to crimson, rose, and soft
pink. That's the happiness and health I found here. You and your
dear mother planted them, and you see how strong and bright they
are."
She lifted up her hand, and gathering one of the great rosy cups
offered it to him, as if it were brimful of the thanks she could not
utter.
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