"Perhaps I can tell you what it is," answered Remsen as he took it.
"Yes, it's the Purple-Stemmed, _Aster puniceus_. Isn't it common where
you live?"
"I've never noticed it," answered Joel. "We have lots of the
_Novoe-Anglioe_ and _spectabilis_ in Maine, and some of the white
asters. It must be very lovely about here in spring."
"Yes, it is. Spring is beautiful here, as it is everywhere. The valley
of the Hudson is especially rich in flora, I believe. I used to be very
fond of the woods on Mount Adam when I was a boy here at Hillton, and
knew every tree in it." They were walking on toward the village, Remsen
rolling his bicycle beside him.
"It's a long while since then, I suppose, sir?" queried Joel.
"I graduated from Hillton ten years ago this coming June. I rowed stroke
in the boat that spring, and we won from Eustace by an eighth of a mile.
And we nearly burned old Masters down to the ground with our Roman
candles and sky rockets. You room there, don't you, March?"
"Yes, sir; Number 34."
"That was Billy Mathews's room that year. Some time if you look under
the carpet you'll find a depression in the middle of the floor. That's
where Billy made a bonfire one night and offered up in sacrifice all his
text-books. It took half an hour to put that fire out." Remsen was
smiling reminiscently.
"But what did he burn his books for, sir? Was it the end of the year?"
"No, but Billy had been expelled that day, and was celebrating the fact.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71