A few leaves and grasses were caught
in the hooks. He examined them attentively.
"We're not in the creek," he said, "nor in the old overflow. There's no
mud or gravel on the hooks, and these grasses don't grow near water."
"Now, that's mighty cute of you," she said admiringly, as she knelt
beside him on the platform. "Let's see what you've caught. Look yer!"
she added, suddenly lifting a limp stalk, "that's 'old man,' and thar
ain't a scrap of it grows nearer than Springer's Rise,--four miles from
home."
"Are you sure?" he asked quickly.
"Sure as pop! I used to go huntin' it for smellidge."
"For what?" he said, with a bewildered smile.
"For this,"--she thrust the leaves to his nose and then to her own
pink nostrils; "for--for"--she hesitated, and then with a mischievous
simulation of correctness added, "for the perfume."
He looked at her admiringly. For all her five feet ten inches, what
a mere child she was, after all! What a fool he was to have taken a
resentful attitude towards her! How charming and graceful she looked,
kneeling there beside him!
"Tell me," he said suddenly, in a gentler voice, "what were you laughing
at just now?"
Her brown eyes wavered for a moment, and then brimmed with merriment.
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