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Chapter VIII

           Heglancedoverhiswheeltoseethatitwasallright,andjustashesteppedtothecurbtomountheheardavoicethatthrilledhimthroughandthrough:“Freckles!OhFreckles!”

           TheAngelseparatedfromagroupoflaughing,sweet-facedgirlsandcamehurryingtohim.Shewasinsnowywhite—aquaintlittlefrock,withamarvelofsoftlacearoundherthroatandwrists.Throughthesheersleevesofitherbeautiful,roundedarmsshoweddistinctly,anditwascutjusttothebaseofherperfectneck.Onherheadwasapurewhitecreationoffancybraid,withfoldsonfoldsoftulle,softandsilkenascobwebs,liningthebrim;whileamassofwhiterosesclusteredagainstthegoldofherhair,creptaroundthecrown,andfellinariottohershouldersattheback.Thereweregleamsofgoldwithsettingsofblueonherfingers,andaltogethershewasthedaintiest,sweetestsightheeverhadseen.Freckles,standingonthecurb,forgothimselfinhiscottonshirt,corduroys,andhisbelttowhichhiswire-cutterandplierswerehanging,andgazedasamangazeswhenfirstheseesthewomanheadoreswithallhercharmsenhancedbyappropriateandbeautifulclothing.

           “OhFreckles,”shecriedasshecametohim.“Iwaswonderingaboutyoutheotherday.DoyouknowIneversawyouintownbefore.Youwatchthatoldlinesoclosely!Whydidyoucome?Isthereanytrouble?AreyoujuststartingtotheLimberlost?”

           “Icametobringyourhat,”saidFreckles.“Youforgotitintherushtheotherday.

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