But'-- her voice took a shy note--'do you remember that piece about the wedding feast at Cana--where you imagined the people going home afterwards over the hill paths--how they talked, and what they felt ?' 'I remember something of the sort,' said Manisty--I wrote it at Nazareth--in the spring.

I'm sure it was bad!' 'I don't know why you say that ?' She knit her brows a little.

'If I shut my eyes, I seemed to be walking with them.

And so with your goat-herd.

I'm certain it was that tree!' she said, pointing to the tree, her bright smile breaking.