In spring and summer the daisy blooms—­this one bloomed in the winter too.

“And I know, and you know why you bloom in the winter,” said the girl.  “’Tis to smile at him in greeting.”

The daisy blooms only a few months together ... this one was in flower already when Christmas came, and flowered the rest of the winter through, more beautiful every day.

“And I know, and you know how long you will bloom.  ’Twas when I set you here at first it all began ... and when he is gone, and there’s none for you to smile at any more, then it will all be over.’”

The girl bent lower over the flower.

“She has but a single flower—­so neat and sweet,” she whispered, pressing her delicate lips to the pale posy petals just unfolded.

“She has but a single friend—­so tender and dear,” smiled the flower in answer, nodding slowly over toward the fields.

A tall youth on ski came gliding by, his cap at the back of his head, and a knapsack strapped at his shoulders.

“At last!” cried the girl, and jumping down, ran out through the passage to the steps in front of the house.

“Daisy!” said the newcomer.  His voice was hardly audible, but his eyes spoke plainly enough, as he stepped up and set his ski and staves against the wall.

The girl answered with a nod and a radiant smile.

He hurried up the steps, and stood beside her.

“Daisy!” he said again, and pressed his cold hands playfully against her cheeks.

“No, thank you!” cried the girl merrily, grasping his wrists.  “I’ve been waiting for you, though, ever so long.  Mother’s gone in to town, and the men haven’t come back from the woods yet.”

“And you’ve been left all alone, and horribly frightened, of course,” laughed the young man, holding the girl’s head between his hands, and pushing her before him in through the doorway.

They went inside, and he hung up his knapsack on the wall.

“Guess what I’ve been thinking of to-day all the way home?”

“Oh, you know I never can guess your riddles.  What is it?”

“Only”—­he drew her down on the seat beside him—­“that you ought to have a pair of ski too.  If only I can get hold of some proper wood, I’ll make a pair in no time.”

“No, no, ’tis not worth it.  And I can’t use them if you did.”

“That’s just why.  You’ve got to learn.  And then you’ll be able to come out with me.  Come out to the forest one day, and I’ll show you something.”

“What’ll that be, I’d like to know?  Only your ugly old stacks of wood.”

“Why, as to that, they’re none so ugly, after all.  And I’ll lift you up and set you on top of the highest of all....  No, that wasn’t what I meant.  But you ought to see....  Out there in the forest, it’s a different world altogether.  Roads and villages of its own—­ay, and churches and priests....”

“What nonsense you do talk!” laughed the girl.