"A gallant gentleman must see that his lady comes to no harm. 'Tis the
way of gallant gentlemen--"
"Hum!"
"And he never once spoke of his discomfort on the long hot road, though
a hay-camp is subject to most singular mishaps."
"I--I have often marveled."
"He is brave and sturdy and of charming humor--"
"A superlative grain of humor perhaps, and he's very lazy--"
"And fine and frank and honorable. One may not forget Arcadia and the
rake of twigs."
"One may not forget, that is very true. But he seeks to make himself
out such a very great fool---"
"He cloaks each generous instinct with a laughing drollery. Why did
you hum when you cooked his supper and called to him through the trees?"
"I--I do not know."
"'Twas the world-old instinct of primitive woman!"
"No! No! No! It was only because I was living the life I love the
best. I was very happy."
"Why were you happier after the storm?"
"I--I do not know."
"You have scolded with flashing eyes about the hay-camp--"
"But--I--I did not mind. I tried to mind and could not--"
"That is a very singular thing."
"Yes."
"Why have you not told him of the tall sentinel you have furtively
watched of moonlit nights among the trees, a sentinel who slept by day
upon a ridiculous bed of hay that he might smoke and watch over the
camp of his lady until peep o' day?"
"I--do not know.
Pages:
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200