He watched in silent wonder the cordial way in which, it seemed to him, that Mercy talked with everybody, and made everybody feel happy.
"Oh, Mercy, how can you!" he would exclaim: "I feel so dumb, even while I am talking the fastest!" "Why, so do I, Stephen," said Mercy.

"I am often racking my brains to think what I shall say next.

Half the people I meet are profoundly uninteresting to me; and half of the other half paralyze me at first sight, and I feel like such a hypocrite all the time; but, oh, what a pleasure it is to talk with the other quarter!" "Yes," sighed Stephen, "you look so happy and absorbed sometimes that it makes me feel as if you had forgotten me altogether." "Silly boy!" laughed Mercy.

"Do you want me to prove to you by a long face that I am remembering you ?--Darling," she added, "at those very times when you see me seem so absorbed and happy in company, I am most likely thinking about the last time you looked into my face, or the next time you will." And for once Stephen was satisfied.
The picnic at which Mercy met Parson Dorrance had taken place on a mountain some six miles south-west of Penfield.

This mountain was the western extremity of the range of which I have before spoken; and at its base ran the river which made the meadow-lands of Penfield and Danby so beautiful.