He remembered the
lakes particularly because--well, because of what came later.
They had their lunch on the shores of a jewel-like bay, sitting upon the
shawl of Mrs. Sykes' grandmother. Esther had many memories of the place.
She had often camped there with her father. But it had been wilder then.
Once a bear had come right up to the door of her tent.
"By Jove!" said the doctor enviously, "what did you do?"
"I said 'shoo'!"
"And did he?"
"Yes, he did. He was a nice bear, very obedient. Some days later father
and I saw Mrs. Bear trot across the clearing with two baby bears behind.
They were moving. I think Mr. Bear was looking for a house when he
called on me."
Altogether it was a magic day. There is an erroneous belief that magic
has died out of the world. But in our hearts we all know better. Which
of us has not lived through the magic hours of a magic day? Which of us
does not know that land, unmapped, unnamed, a land whose sun is
brighter, whose grass is greener, whose sky is bluer, and whose every
road runs into a golden mist? Magic land it must be, for much seeking
cannot find it.
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