And now what do they mean, please,--those words,--'I count no hours but unclouded ones' ?" Miss Holbrook stirred in her seat and frowned.
"Why, it means what it says, of course, boy.

A sundial counts its hours by the shadow the sun throws, and when there is no sun there is no shadow; hence it's only the sunny hours that are counted by the dial," she explained a little fretfully.
David's face radiated delight.
"Oh, but I like that!" he exclaimed.
"You like it!" "Yes.

I should like to be one myself, you know." "Well, really! And how, pray ?" In spite of herself a faint gleam of interest came into Miss Holbrook's eyes.
David laughed and dropped himself easily to the ground at her feet.

He was holding his violin on his knees now.
"Why, it would be such fun," he chuckled, "to just forget all about the hours when the sun didn't shine, and remember only the nice, pleasant ones.

Now for me, there wouldn't be any hours, really, until after four o'clock, except little specks of minutes that I'd get in between when I DID see something interesting." Miss Holbrook stared frankly.
"What an extraordinary boy you are, to be sure," she murmured.