"And what, may I ask, is it that you do every day until four o'clock, that you wish to forget ?" David sighed.
"Well, there are lots of things.

I hoed potatoes and corn, first, but they're too big now, mostly; and I pulled up weeds, too, till they were gone.

I've been picking up stones, lately, and clearing up the yard.
Then, of course, there's always the woodbox to fill, and the eggs to hunt, besides the chickens to feed,--though I don't mind THEM so much; but I do the other things, 'specially the weeds.

They were so much prettier than the things I had to let grow, 'most always." Miss Holbrook laughed.
"Well, they were; and really" persisted the boy, in answer to the merriment in her eyes; "now wouldn't it be nice to be like the sundial, and forget everything the sun didn't shine on?
Would n't you like it?
Isn't there anything YOU want to forget ?" Miss Holbrook sobered instantly.

The change in her face was so very marked, indeed, that involuntarily David looked about for something that might have cast upon it so great a shadow.