while the talk went on.
“I wish I was twenty, and going to seek my fortune, as you are,
“said Jack; and the other boys agreed with him, for something in
Ralph’s new plans and purposes roused the manly spirit in all of
them, reminding them that playtime would soon be over, and the
great world before them, where to choose.
“It is easy enough to say what you’d like; but the trouble is, you
have to take what you can get, and make the best of it,” said Gus,
whose own views were rather vague as yet.
“No you don’t, always; you can make things go as you want them,
if you only try hard enough, and walk right over whatever stands in
the way. I don’t mean to give up my plans for any man; but, if I
live, I’ll carry them out–you see if I don’t”; and Frank gave the
rock where he lay a blow with his fist, that sent the acorns flying
all about.
One of them hit Jack, and he said, sorrowfully, as he held it in his
hand so carefully it was evident he had some association with it,
“Ed used to say that, and he had some splendid plans, but they
didn’t come to anything.”
“Perhaps they did; who can tell? Do your best while you live, and I
don’t believe anything good is lost, whether we have it a long or a
short time,” said Ralph, who knew what a help and comfort high
hopes were, and how they led to better things, if worthily
cherished.
“A great many acorns are wasted, I suppose; but some of them
sprout and grow, and make splendid trees,” added Merry, feeling
more than she knew how to express, as she looked up at the oaks
overhead.
Only seven of the party were sitting on the knoll now, for the rest
had gone to wash the dishes and pack the baskets down by the
boats. Jack and Jill, with the three elder boys, were in a little
group, and as Merry spoke, Gus said to Frank,
“Did you plant yours?”
“Yes, on the lawn, and I mean it shall come up if I can make it,”
answered Frank, gravely.
“I put mine where I can see it from the window, and not forget to
water and take care of it,” added Jack, still turning the pretty
brown acorn to and fro as if he loved it.
“What do they mean?” whispered Merry to Jill, who was leaning
against her knee Lo rest.
“The boys were walking in the Cemetery last Sunday, as they often
do, and when they came to Ed’s grave, the place was all covered
with little acorns from the tree that grows on the bank. They each
took up some as they stood talking, and Jack said he should plant
his, for he loved Ed very much, you know. The others said they
would, too; and I hope the trees will grow, though we don’t need
anything to remember him by,” answered Jill, in a low tone,
thinking of the pressed flowers the girls kept for his sake.
The boys heard her, but no one spoke for a moment as they sat
looking across the river toward the hill where the pines whispered
their lullabies and pointed heavenward, steadfast and green, all the
year round. None of them could express the thought that was in
their minds as Jill told the little story; but the act and the feeling
that prompted it were perhaps as beautiful an assurance as could
have been given that the dear dead boy’s example had not been
wasted, for the planting of the acorns was a symbol of the desire
budding in those young hearts to be what he might have been, and
to make their lives nobler for the knowledge and the love of him.
“It seems as if a great deal had happened this year,” said Merry, in
a pensive tone, for this quiet talk just suited her mood.
“So I say, for there’s been a Declaration of Independence and a
Revolution in our house, and I’m commander-in-chief now; and
don’t I like it!” cried Molly, complacently surveying the neat new