234 
THE RETURN HOME 
each month the flowers grew more assured and con- 
fident, until, in June, it seemed as if they knew 
something about their own beauty. Later in the 
summer, they became bold in gorgeousness, while 
now In September they are toning down again and 
wearing an air more modest, more like that of 
spring. This may be caused by fear — the fear of 
being caught by Jack Frost. 
When Joseph and I were returning to the Six 
Spruces, we looked out of the train windows most 
of the way. We passed fields of goldenrod, and, 
when we ran through narrow, secluded places, wild 
asters hemmed us in on both sides. Their colours 
were white, lilac and purple. These, I thought, 
were the right colours for autumn, looking well 
with the distant rods of gold and the leaves over- 
head tipped with browns, crimson and yellow. 
But nowhere In all this medley of wild autumn 
flowers did I see pink, the pink of the dogwood, 
the azaleas, and Aunt Amanda’s blush-rose. This 
is the colour of spring and early summer. I was 
glad that It did not occur through these au^tumn 
fields. It would have appeared too fragile against 
the masses of gold and purple. 
While I was thinking about the colours of the 
seasons. Miss Wiseman was saying with some em- 
phasis : 
“You come to me. Master Joseph, and read me a 
chapter or two from that note-book of yours before 
