The spruces were rejoicing in the wind , and even the battered firs were singing of the sea . Old memories trooped into their hearts like shining spirits . `` Baby Blossom , '' said Old Man Shaw falteringly , `` are you quite sure you 'll be contented here ? Out there '' -- with a vague sweep of his hand towards horizons that shut out a world far removed from White Sands -- `` there 's pleasure and excitement and all that . Wo n't you miss it ? Wo n't you get tired of your old father and White Sands ? '' Sara patted his hand gently . `` The world out there is a good place , '' she said thoughtfully , `` I 've had three splendid years and I hope they 'll enrich my whole life . There are wonderful things out there to see and learn , fine , noble people to meet , beautiful deeds to admire ; but , '' she wound her arm about his neck and laid her cheek against his -- `` there is no daddy ! '' And Old Man Shaw looked silently at the sunset -- or , rather , through the sunset to still grander and more radiant splendours beyond , of which the things seen were only the pale reflections , not worthy of attention from those who had the gift of further sight . VII . Aunt Olivia 's Beau Aunt Olivia told Peggy and me about him on the afternoon we went over to help her gather her late roses for pot-pourri . We found her strangely quiet and preoccupied . As a rule she was fond of mild fun , alert to hear East Grafton gossip , and given to sudden little trills of almost girlish laughter , which for the time being dispelled the atmosphere of gentle old-maidishness which seemed to hang about her as a garment . At such moments we did not find it hard to believe -- as we did at other times -- that Aunt Olivia had once been a girl herself . This day she picked the roses absently , and shook the fairy petals into her little sweet-grass basket with the air of a woman whose thoughts were far away . We said nothing , knowing that Aunt Olivia 's secrets always came our way in time . When the rose-leaves were picked , we carried them in and upstairs in single file , Aunt Olivia bringing up the rear to pick up any stray rose-leaf we might drop . In the south-west room , where there was no carpet to fade , we spread them on newspapers on the floor . Then we put our sweet-grass baskets back in the proper place in the proper closet in the proper room .
What would have happened to us , or to the XXXXX baskets , if this had not been done I do not know .
Sands Sara Shaw VII afternoon firs rose-leaf spruces sweet-grass trills