of her white forehead and in the sincere intensity of her gaze.
She wore a blue linen dress, and there was a little, soft, blue scarf
under her chin; her white hat, with pink roses and loops
of gray-blue ribbon, shadowed eager, unhumorous eyes, the color
of forget-me-nots. Her husband was her senior by several years--
a large, loose-limbed man, with a scholarly face and mild,
calm eyes--eyes that were full of a singular tenacity of purpose.
Just now his face showed the fatigue of the long climb up-hill;
and when his wife, stopping to look back over the glistening tops
of the birches, said, "I believe it's half a mile to the top yet!"
he agreed, breathlessly. "Hard work!" he said.

"It will be worth it when I get to the top and can see the view!"
she declared, and began to climb again.

"All the same, this road will be mighty hot when the sun gets full
on it," her husband said; and added, anxiously, "I wish I had made
you rest in the station until train-time." She flung out her hands
with an exclamation: "Rest! I hate rest!"

"Hold on, and I'll give you a stick," he called to her;
"it's a help when you're climbing." He pulled down a slender
birch, and, setting his foot on it, broke it off at the root.
She stopped, with an impatient gesture, and waited while he tore
off handfuls of leaves and whittled away the side-shoots.


"Do hurry, Lewis!" she said.

They had left their train at five o'clock in the morning, and had