"Read away, and digest it well; then write, and tell me what you think of it. Will you?" he asked, as they paused where the four roads met.
"If you will answer. Shall you have time with all your other work? Poetry—I beg pardon—medicine is very absorbing, you know," answered Rose, mischievously; for just then, as he stood bareheaded with the shadows of the leaves playing over his fine forehead, she remembered the chat among the hay-cocks, and he did not look at all like an M.D.
"I'll make time."
"Good-by, Milton."
"Good-by, Sabrina."
CHAPTER XVIII.
WHICH WAS IT?
ROSE did read and digest, and found her days much richer for the good company she kept; for an introduction to so much that was wise, beautiful, and true, could not but make that month a memorable one. It is not strange that while the young man most admired "Heroism" and "Self-Reliance," the girl preferred "Love" and "Friendship," reading them over and over like prose poems, as they are, to the fitting
