All
this time Dr. Sandford was as busy as a bee, in quest of
something. He was a great geologist and mineralogist; a lover
of all natural science, but particularly of chemistry and
geology. When I stopped to look at him, I thought he must have
put his own tastes in his pocket for several days past, that
he might gratify mine. I was standing on a rock, high and dry
and grey with lichen; he was poking about in some swampy
ground.
"Are you tired, Daisy?" he said, looking up.
"My feet are tired," I said.
"That is all of you that can be tired. Sit down where you are
— I will come to you directly."
So I sat down, and watched him, and looked off between whiles
to the wonderful green walls of the glen. The summer blue was
very clear overhead; the stillness of the place very deep;
insects, birds, a flutter of leaves, and the grating of Dr.
Sandford's boot upon a stone, all the sound that could be
heard.
"Why, you are warm, as well as tired, Daisy," he said, coming
up to my rock at last.
"It is warm," I answered.
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