But Uncle Tod is a perfect dear.
I never saw any one before who noticed so many things that I didn't, and nothing that I did.

I am sure he has in him what Mr.Cuthcott said we were all losing--the love of simple, natural conditions.

And then, THE moment, when I stood with Derek at the end of the orchard, to say good-by.

The field below covered with those moony-white flowers, and the cows all dark and sleepy; the holy feeling down there was wonderful, and in the branches over our heads, too, and the velvety, starry sky, and the dewiness against one's face, and the great, broad silence--it was all worshipping something, and I was worshipping--worshipping happiness.
I WAS happy, and I think HE was.

Perhaps I shall never be so happy again.