Rainbow Valley

Mary pricked up her ears and listened respectfully. Despite her awe of Walter she revelled in his “book talk.” It always gave her a delightful sensation. Walter had been reading his Coleridge that day, and he pictured a heaven where

“There were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense bearing tree, And there were forests ancient as the hills Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.”

“I didn’t know there was any woods in heaven,” said Mary, with a long breath. “I thought it was all streets—and streets—AND streets.”

“Of course there are woods,” said Nan. “Mother can’t live without trees and I can’t, so what would be the use of going to heaven if there weren’t any trees?”

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