"May I see you here to-morrow?" he asked.
She smiled and nodded and waved her hand to him and ran away.
The crow laughed as if her haste were amusing.
Master sat awhile after she had gone. He could not now endure the thought of leaving. He had planned to go with Strong and visit a number of woodsmen at their camps, and talk to the mill-hands in a few villages on the lower river. It was a formality not to be neglected if one would receive the votes of Pitkin, Till-bury, and Tifton. But suddenly he had become a candidate for greater happiness, he felt sure, than was to be found in politics. His election thereto depended largely on the vote of one charming citizen of a remote corner of Till-bury township. Her favor had now become more important, in his view, than that of all the voters in the county. He would delay his canvass over the week's end.
So thinking, Master put off in his canoe with the children, gathering lilies until he came at last to the landing. There Sinth and the Emperor had just arrived.
"W-weasels," said Strong, with a little nod in the direction of his sister, who stood on the shore.
With him, as Master knew, the weasel had come to be a symbol of needless worry.
"About what?" Master inquired.
"L-little f-fawns."
"Keep thinkin' they're goin' to git lost or drownded," said she, giving each of the children a sugared cooky.