"Read aloud to Maude from Lorna Doone. Very much taken with this little bit - 'the valley into which I gazed was fair with early promise, having shelter from the wind and taking all the sunshine. The willow bushes hung over the stream as if they were angling with tasseled floats of gold & silver, bursting like a bean-pod. Between them came the water laughing like a maid at her own dancing, and spread with that young blue which never lies beyond the April. And on either bank, the meadow ruffled as the breeze came by, opening (through new tufts of green) daisy-bud or celandine, or a shy glimpse now & then of a love-lorn primrose.'"