He heard her moving around as he sat planning on the porch.
“To-morrow,” he thought, and then an idea struck him that made him dizzy. From within June cried:
“Here I am,” and out she ran in the last crimson gown of her young girlhood—her sleeves rolled up and her hair braided down her back as she used to wear it.
“You've made up my bed and I'm going to make yours—and I'm going to cook your supper—why, what's the matter?” Hale's face was radiant with the heaven-born idea that lighted it, and he seemed hardly to notice the change she had made. He came over and took her in his arms:
“Ah, sweetheart, my sweetheart!” A spasm of anxiety tightened her throat, but Hale laughed from sheer delight.
“Never you mind. It's a secret,” and he stood back to look at her. She blushed as his eyes went downward to her perfect ankles.
“It is too short,” she said.
“No, no, no! Not for me! You're mine now, little girl, mine—do you understand that?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her mouth trembling, Again he laughed joyously.
“Come on!” he cried, and he went into the kitchen and brought out an axe: