“Who?” he asked, starting up.
“They—the stars!” she said, softly. “Do you not see? There is a little white, mocking finger pointing down at us from each one of them! We are talking of tomorrow and tomorrow, and our hearts are so strong; we are not thinking of something that can touch us softly in the dark and make us still forever. They are laughing at us Waldo.”
Both sat looking upward.
“Do you ever pray?” he asked her in a low voice.
“No.”
“I never do; but I might when I look up there. I will tell you,” he added, in a still lower voice, “where I could pray. If there were a wall of rock on the edge of a world, and one rock stretched out far, far into space, and I stood alone upon it, alone, with stars above me, and stars below me,—I would not say anything; but the feeling would be prayer.”
There was an end to their conversation after that, and Doss fell asleep on her knee. At last the night-wind grew very chilly.
“Ah,” she said, shivering, and drawing the skirt about her shoulders, “I am cold. Span-in the horses, and call me when you are ready.”
She slipped down and walked toward the house, Doss stiffly following her, not pleased at being roused. At the door she met Gregory.
“I have been looking for you everywhere; may I not drive you home?” he said.