sing, for she could not see the birds in them.

Rose's face between the green sides of her bonnet had in it all the
quickened bloom of youth in spring; her eyes had all the blue
surprise of violets; she panted softly between red swelling lips as
she walked; pulses beat in her crimson cheeks. Her slender figure
yielded to the wind as to a lover. She passed Barney Thayer's new
house; then she came opposite the field where he was at work
ploughing, driving a white horse, stooping to his work in his blue
frock.

Rose stood still and looked at him; then she walked on a little way;
then she paused again. Barney never looked around at her. There was
the width of a field between them.

Finally Rose went through the open bars into the first field. She
crossed it slowly, holding up her skirts where there was a wet gleam
through darker grass, and getting a little nosegay of violets with a
busy air, as if that were what she had come for. She passed through
the other bars into the second field, and Barney was only a little
way from her. He did not glance at her then. He was ploughing with
the look that Cadmus might have worn preparing the ground for the
dragon's teeth.

Rose held up her skirts, and went along the furrows behind him.
"Hullo, Barney," she said, in a trembling voice.

"Hullo," he returned, without looking around, and he kept on, with
Rose following.