It's all so plain to me.

Oh, if I could only make you see!" She buried her face in the pillow and presently lifted it, transfigured.
"Now I have it!" she cried.

"Oh, dear heart! I can make it so plain! Freckles, can you imagine you see the old Limberlost trail?
Well when we followed it, you know there were places where ugly, prickly thistles overgrew the path, and you went ahead with your club and bent them back to keep them from stinging through my clothing.

Other places there were big shining pools where lovely, snow-white lilies grew, and you waded in and gathered them for me.

Oh dear heart, don't you see?
It's this! Everywhere the wind carried that thistledown, other thistles sprang up and grew prickles; and wherever those lily seeds sank to the mire, the pure white of other lilies bloomed.