“Don't touch me with your holly!” exclaimed Betty, walking faster; then in a moment she turned and stood calling to the dogs. “Have you noticed what beauties Bill and Peyton have grown to be?” she questioned pleasantly. “There weren't any boys to be named after papa and Uncle Bill, so I called the dogs after them, you know. Papa says he would rather have had a son named Peyton; but I tell him the son might have been wicked and brought his hairs in sorrow to the grave.”
“Well, I dare say, you're right,” he stopped with a sweep of his hand, and stood looking to where a flock of crows were flying over the dried spectres of carrot flowers that stood up above the snow; “That's fine, now, isn't it?” he asked seriously.
Betty followed his gesture, then she gave a little cry and threw her arms round the dogs. “The poor crows are so hungry,” she said. “No, no, you mustn't chase them, Bill and Peyton, it isn't right, you see. Here, Jake, come and hold the dogs, while I feed the crows.” She drew a handful of corn from the pocket of her cloak, and flung it out into the meadow.
“I always bring corn for them,” she explained; “they get so hungry, and sometimes they starve to death right out here. Papa says they are pernicious birds; but I don't care—do you mind their being pernicious?”
“I? Not in the least. I assure you I trouble myself very little about the morals of my associates. I'm not fond of crows; but it is their voices rather than their habits I object to. I can't stand their eternal 'cawing!'—it drives me mad.”
“I suppose foxes are pernicious beasts, also,” said Betty, as she walked on; “but there's an old red fox in the woods that I've been feeding for years. I don't know anything that foxes like to eat except chickens, but I carry him a basket of potatoes and turnips and bread, and pile them up under a pine tree; it's just as well for him to acquire the taste for them, isn't it?”
She smiled at Dan above her fur tippet, and he forgot her words in watching the animation come and go in her face. He fell to musing over her decisive little chin, the sensitive curves of her nostrils and sweet wide mouth, and above all over her kind yet ardent look, which gave the peculiar beauty to her eyes.
“Ah, is there anything in heaven or earth that you don't like?” he asked, as he gazed at her.
“That I don't like? Shall I really tell you?”
He bent toward her over his armful of holly.