His companion, a wistfully pale girl under an absurd and expensive hat,
laid her hand in an embroidered white silk glove on his arm and said in
a low tone: "We won't bother him, Calvin. There are plenty of ministers
in Washington; or we could come back later."
"There are, and we could," he agreed; "but we won't. I'm not going to
wait a minute more for you, Lucy. Not now that you are willing. Why, I
have been waiting half my life already."
I
A gaunt young man with clear blue eyes sat on the bank of a mountain
road and gazed at the newly-built house opposite. It was the only
dwelling visible. Behind, the range rose in a dark wall against the
evening sky; on either hand the small green valley was lost in a blue
haze of serried peaks. The house was not imposing; in reality small,
but a story and a half, it had a length of three rooms with a kitchen
forming an angle, invisible from where Calvin Stammark sat; an outside
chimney at each end, and a narrow covered portico over the front door.
An expiring clatter of hoofs marked the departure of the neighbor who
had helped Calvin set the last flanged course. It seemed incredible
that it was finished, ready--when the furniture and bright rag carpet
had been placed--for Hannah. "The truck patch will go in there on the
right," he told himself; "and gradually I'll get the slope cleared out,
corn and buckwheat planted."
He twisted about, facing the valley. It was deep in grass, watered with
streams like twisting shining ribbons, and held a sleek slow-grazing
herd of cattle.
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