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           Everyleafandbudandbladeseemedtocontributeitsexhalationtothepervadingsweetnessinwhichthepungencyofpine-sapprevailedoverthespiceofthymeandthesubtleperfumeoffern,andallweremergedinamoistearth-smellthatwaslikethebreathofsomehugesun-warmedanimal.

           Charityhadlaintherealongtime,passiveandsun-warmedastheslopeonwhichshelay,whentherecamebetweenhereyesandthedancingbutterflythesightofaman’sfootinalargewornbootcoveredwithredmud.

           “Oh,don’t!”sheexclaimed,raisingherselfonherelbowandstretchingoutawarninghand.

           “Don’twhat?”ahoarsevoiceaskedaboveherhead.

           “Don’tstamponthosebrambleflowers,youdolt!”sheretorted,springingtoherknees.Thefootpausedandthendescendedclumsilyonthefrailbranch,andraisinghereyesshesawaboveherthebewilderedfaceofaslouchingmanwithathinsunburntbeard,andwhitearmsshowingthroughhisraggedshirt.

           “Don’tyoueverSEEanything,LiffHyatt?”sheassailedhim,ashestoodbeforeherwiththelookofamanwhohasstirredupawasp’snest.

           Hegrinned.“Iseenyou!That’swhatIcomedownfor.”

           “Downfromwhere?”shequestioned,stoopingtogatherupthepetalshisfoothadscattered.

           Hejerkedhisthumbtowardtheheights.“BeencuttingdowntreesforDanTargatt.”

           Charitysankbackonherheelsandlookedathimmusingly.ShewasnotintheleastafraidofpoorLiffHyatt,thoughhe“camefromtheMountain,”andsomeofthegirlsranwhentheysawhim.

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