Now, can't you send word down
and have my trunk brought up? Or shall I have to walk down?"
"I guess I'll see somebody goin' down," said Laura.
"All right. Now for the hayfield," he smiled and went out into the
glorious morning.
The circling hills the same, yet not the same as at night. A cooler,
tenderer, more subdued cloak of color u~ on them. Far down the
valley a cool, deep, impalpable, blue mist lay, under which one
divined the river Ian, under its elms and basswoods and wild
grapevines. On the shaven slopes of the hills cattle and sheep were
feeding, their cries and bells coming to the ear with a sweet
suggestiveness. There was something immemorial in the sunny
slopes dotted with red and brown and gray cattle.
Walking toward the haymakers, Howard felt a twinge of pain and
distrust. Would he ignore it all and smile-
He stopped short. He had not seen Grant smile in so long-he
couldn't quite see him smiling. He had been cold and bitter for
years. When he came up to them, Grant was pitching on; the old
man was loading, and the boy was raking after.
"Good morning," Howard cried cheerily. The old man nodded, the
boy stared. Grant growled something, with-out looking up.
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