the fireflies hung upon their whispers as if to win his glance from the glory of their eyes.
***** THE END OF SUMMER "No wind is stirring in the grass; not one wind stirs...

the water in the hidden pools, as glass, fronts the full moon and so inters the golden token in its icy mass," chanted Eleanor to the trees that skeletoned the body of the night.

"Isn't it ghostly here?
If you can hold your horse's feet up, let's cut through the woods and find the hidden pools." "It's after one, and you'll get the devil," he objected, "and I don't know enough about horses to put one away in the pitch dark." "Shut up, you old fool," she whispered irrelevantly, and, leaning over, she patted him lazily with her riding-crop.

"You can leave your old plug in our stable and I'll send him over to-morrow." "But my uncle has got to drive me to the station with this old plug at seven o'clock." "Don't be a spoil-sport--remember, you have a tendency toward wavering that prevents you from being the entire light of my life." Amory drew his horse up close beside, and, leaning toward her, grasped her hand.
"Say I am--_quick_, or I'll pull you over and make you ride behind me." She looked up and smiled and shook her head excitedly.
"Oh, do!--or rather, don't! Why are all the exciting things so uncomfortable, like fighting and exploring and ski-ing in Canada?
By the way, we're going to ride up Harper's Hill.

I think that comes in our programme about five o'clock." "You little devil," Amory growled.