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'Why, Lily,' said Posco, rather surprised at her question, 'there will be nothing for you to do but come home with me, if we get married. What else could you do?'
'But what about the meantime? How will we see each other?'
'Oh,' said Posco, and he put his back to the trunk of the tree and gazed thoughtfully down at her. A soft breeze rustled the leaves and the tree branches gently rose and full, brushing against her face and catching her hair. The bright sun made her cheeks rosy, and the quavering shadows of the leaves danced over her features. Her eyes were sparkling with joy, and her red lips were turned up in a smile. Posco leaned forward, and said, 'Lily, I have something: when you leave you can come to my home for a time to visit, so my parents can meet you and all those necessary things. My mother would delight in taking care of you, and you would love my home. It has trees, and hills, and the Brandywine isn't far away at all. When nighttime comes you hear the crickets chirping, and then a fiddle will be taken out and we dance by the fire, and late in the night everyone goes a-bed. When morning comes each and every bird sings, and we go down to the Brandywine to fish, or just to sit amid the wildflowers and watch the water flow by. Oh, Lily, you'd love it so very much.'
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