servants; and the empty places were taken by a couple of
country women, one young and rustic, the other elderly and
ditto. That was all that Wych Hazel saw of them. The fact that
one of the women presently fell to eating gingerbread and the
other molasses candy, effectually turned all Miss Kennedy's
attention out of doors.

The cleared country was left behind; and the coach entered a
region of undisturbed forest, through which it had many miles
to travel before reaching civilization again. The view was
shut in. The trees waved overhead and stretched along the road
endlessly, too thick for the eye to penetrate far. The coach
rumbled on monotonously. The smell of pines and other green
things came sweet and odorous, but the day was hot, and
everything was dry; the dust rose and the sunbeams poured
down. Wych Hazel languished for a change. Only a red squirrel
now and then reminded her what a lively life she led a day or
two ago. And Mr. Falkirk seemed too indifferent to mind the
weather, and Rollo seemed to like it! She was very weary.
Taking off her hat and leaning one hand on her guardian's
shoulder, she rested her head there, too--looking out with a
sort of fascinated intentness into the hazy atmosphere, which
grew every moment thicker and bluer and more intensely hazy.
It almost seemed to take shape, to her eye, and to curl and
wave like some animated thing among the still pines. The
countrywomen were dozing now; Mr. Rollo and Mr. Falkirk mused,
or possibly dozed too; it made her restless only to look at
them. Softly moving off to her own corner, Wych Hazel leaned
out of the window. Dark and still and blue--veiled as ever, the
pines rose up in endless succession by the roadside; a yellow