"I—I don't know. Not long."
"I'm so glad."
She was coloring very prettily.
"You—you told me you—you'd play for me sometime," she said demurely.
"Of course. Won't you come in? It's rather a mess here, but——"
He led her in, glancing at her gingham dress, a little puzzled.
"I thought you'd be farmeretting," he said.
But she shook her head.
"I quit—yesterday."
He didn't ask the reason. He was really enjoying the sight of her. Few women are comely in the morning hours, which have a merciless way of exaggerating minute imperfections. Beth hadn't any minute imperfections except her freckles, which were merely Nature's colorings upon a woodland flower. She seemed to fill the cabin with morning fragrance, like a bud just brought in from the garden.