FOUR DREAMERS 79 



handful with quietness " is not so bad a por- 

 tion. 



Yes, but time is precious. Time once past 

 never returns. 



True. 



We must make the best of it, therefore. 



True. 



By making more shoes. 



Nay, that is not so certain. 



The sun is getting low. Longer and 

 longer tree-shadows come creeping over the 

 grass, making the light beyond them so much 

 the brighter and lovelier. The oak leaves 

 shimmer as the wind twists the branches. 

 The green aftermath is of all exquisite shades. 

 A beautiful bit of the world. The meadow 

 is like a cup. For an hour I have been 

 drinking life out of it. 



Now I will return home by a narrow 

 path, well-worn, but barely wide enough for 

 a man's steps; a path that nobody uses, so 

 far as I know, except myself. Till within 

 a year or two it belonged to a hermit, who 

 kept it in the neatest possible condition. 

 That was his chief employment. His path 

 was the apple of his eye. He was as jealous 



