“Looka!”
“Wait! We ain’t started yet, if you think this is swell.”
“Oh! Let’s go over in them woods. Let’s.” Her lips were apart and pink crept into her cheeks, effacing the dark rims of pain beneath her eyes. “Let’s hurry.”
“Sure; that’s where we’re going—right over in there, where the woods look like they’re on fire; but, gee, this ain’t nothing to the country places I know round here. This ain’t nothing. Wait!”
The ardor of the inspired guide was his, and with each exclamation from her the joy of his task doubled itself.
“If you think this is great, wait—just you wait. Gee, if you like this, what would you have said to the farm? Wait till we get to the top of the hill.”
Fallen leaves, crisp as paper, crackled pleasantly under their feet; and through the haze that is October’s veil glowed a reddish sun, vague as an opal. A footpath crawled like a serpent through the woods and they followed it, kicking up the leaves before them, pausing, darting, exclaiming.
“I—Honest, Mr. Blaney, I—”
“Eddie!”
“Eddie, I—I never did feel so—I never was so—so—Aw, I can’t say it.” Tears sprang to her eyes.