"To the funeral? Oh, no. He must have strayed away from his compeers. But there are plenty of wolves."
"Yes, father killed one in the winter that was prowling round."
She leaned her head down on my shoulder. How lovely and peaceful it was. I could have drowsed off, but a voice roused me.
"Ruth, Ruth Gaynor?" with a boyish cadence.
"Oh," opening her eyes, then listening. "That's Ben's voice, isn't it? I promised to walk with him if he would swing the children. Can't we three walk together if you are rested? And I believe I went to sleep. Norman, this wood is like reading beautiful poetry. Oh, do you remember 'The Lady of the Lake'?"
"Ruth Gaynor?"
She gave a pretty call as we rose. Then glancing around, we started toward a little opening and presently heard a crunch on the leafy turf, and discerned a figure going in a direction that would have taken him quite by us, only I called, rather against my will.
"Hello, Norme! When did you come?" He certainly did look disappointed.
"Not long ago," I said. "How splendid it all is!"
"Well, I haven't had much of the splendor, gathering wood and waiting on mother and the women and swinging children. You better go and do some of the work."