Веснянки
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.
