"They won't none of them trouble you, the Hyatts won't. What d'you want
a take a stranger with you though?"

"I've told you, haven't I? You've got to tell Bash Hyatt."

He looked away at the blue mountains on the horizon; then his gaze
dropped to the chimney-top below the pasture.

"He's down there now?"

"Yes."

He shifted his weight again, crossed his arms, and continued to survey
the distant landscape. "Well, so long," he said at last, inconclusively;
and turning away he shambled up the hillside. From the ledge above
her, he paused to call down: "I wouldn't go there a Sunday"; then he
clambered on till the trees closed in on him. Presently, from high
overhead, Charity heard the ring of his axe.

She lay on the warm ridge, thinking of many things that the woodsman's
appearance had stirred up in her. She knew nothing of her early life,
and had never felt any curiosity about it: only a sullen reluctance to
explore the corner of her memory where certain blurred images lingered.
But all that had happened to her within the last few weeks had stirred
her to the sleeping depths. She had become absorbingly interesting to
herself, and everything that had to do with her past was illuminated by
this sudden curiosity.

She hated more than ever the fact of coming from the Mountain; but it
was no longer indifferent to her. Everything that in any way affected