I'll get that, Gareth muttered. I'll get a good education, but I'm no longer so sure that you need to go to college for that.
You don't mean to say that you're going into business with your father?
No, I don't mean that. I won't do that. His face was the sign of his determination.
Why, what do you mean, Gareth?
Look at that red bird, Miss Colman. It's a cardinal. The boy pointed to the branch of a tree.
Isn't it beautiful!
It's like a tropical bird. There are so many of these brilliantly coloured birds that live in Iowa during the summer. I wonder where they all come from?
They migrate, Miss Colman replied, yet she must have known that he had not asked the question for information.
Yes, Gareth replied, an expression of intense ecstasy flashing across his countenance, they migrate. That's why I love birds.
They had now gone beyond the farm-gardens, and were passing through a wooded copse. The path was narrower and shaded from the sun. The ground, on either side, was carpeted with moss, through which great ferns had thrust their fronds. A mottled toad hopped over a beech-tree root, a gnarled protuberance across the footway.
If you go away, Lennie began, her glance directed on the path ahead of her, whether it is to college
