The mother had broken the silence at last.

No," said Clayton; "but I like it very much."

Do ye? " she asked, in surprise. " Why, I 'lowed you folks from the
settlemints thought hit was mighty scraggy down hyeh."


"Oh no. These mountains and woods are beautiful, and I never
saw lovelier beech-trees. The coloring of their trunks is so
exquisite, and the shade is so fine," he concluded, lamely, noticing
a blank look on the old woman's face. To his delight the girl, half
turned toward him, was listening with puzzled interest.

Well," said the old woman, " beeches is beautiful to me when they
has mast enough to feed the hogs."


Carried back to his train of speculations, Clayton started at this
abrupt deliverance. There was a suspicion of humor in the old
woman's tone that showed an appreciation of their different
standpoints. It was lost on Clayton, however, for his attention had
been caught by the word "mast," which, by some accident, he
I had never heard before.

" Mast," he asked, " what is that?

The girl looked toward him in amazement, and burst into a low,
suppressed laugh. Her mother explained the word, and all laughed
heartily.