"Yes, strong as that man's arms in mating season—hey, Molly?" And Nance punched Ann in the side.
The girls laughed merrily. "Isn't 'Ole Bar' funny?" Ann said. "He's just back from an awful exciting trip to Arkansas, wherever that is. He'll have lots to tell."
"Davy and father will get his stories. But say, Nance, do sounds make you think of smells?"
"I never thought of such a thing."
"Don't cow-bells make you think of hay and dandelions and grass and the smell of the cow-lot in the evening?"
"They do go together."
"And don't water running over roots make you think of willow blooms, and water dripping over stones sound like ferns when the stems are crushed? And the sound of crows—don't they bring the smell of the field furrows? And don't bees and honey-locust, and robins and apple blossoms, go together? I could name a hundred sounds that have smells for partners.
"Yes, but you're funny, Ann, to think of such things."
"Now I have a new pair. The sound of that horn, away off behind the trees, will always make me think of the first plum blossoms. The smell and the sound came together as I shook the branches, and the smell right here seemed to me exactly the same thing told in another way as the sound away over the water. O Nance—don't you love plum blossoms?"