She was like a summer rose, making everything and everybody glad about her, loving the air she breathed as much for the color it put into her cheeks as for the new bound it gave to her blood.

Just as she loved the sunlight for its warmth and the dip and swell of the sea for its thrill.

So, too, when the roses were a glory of bloom, not only would she revel in the beauty of the blossoms, but intoxicated by their color and fragrance, would bury her face in the wealth of their abundance, taking in great draughts of their perfume, caressing them with her cheeks, drinking in the honey of their petals.
This was also true of her voice--a rich, full, vibrating voice, that dominated the room and thrilled the hearts of all who heard her.

When she sang she sang as a bird sings, as much to relieve its own overcharged little body, full to bursting with the music in its soul, as to gladden the surrounding woods with its melody--because, too, she could not help it and because the notes lay nearest her bubbling heart and could find their only outlet through the lips.
Bart was her constant companion.

Under his instructions she had learned to hold the tiller in sailing in and out of the inlet; to swim over hand; to dive from a plank, no matter how high the jump; and to join in all his outdoor sports.