are allus a-watchin' hit. A body'd think you-all was mighty nigh old
'nough, by now, ter look at hit alone."

Auntie Sue laughed, a low, musical, chuckling laugh, and, with a hint
of loving impatience in her gentle voice, replied to Judy's observation:
"But, don't you understand, child? It adds so to one's happiness
to share lovely scenes like this. It makes it all so much--so
much--well,--BIGGER, to have some one enjoy it with you. Come, dear!"
And she held out her hand with a gesture of entreaty, and a look
of yearning upon her dear old face that no human being could have
withstood.

Judy, still slyly watchful, went cautiously nearer; and Auntie Sue,
putting an arm lovingly about the crooked shoulders of the mountain
girl, pointed again toward the west as she said, in a low voice that
vibrated with emotion, "Look, Judy! Look!"

The black eyes shifted, and the old-young, expressionless face turned
toward the landscape, which lay before them in all its wondrous beauty
of glowing sky and tinted mountain and gleaming river. And there might
have been a faint touch of softness, now, in the querulous monotone
as Judy said: "I can't see as how hit could be ary bigger. Hain't ary
reason, as I kin see, why hit should be ary bigger if hit could. Lord
knows there's 'nough of hit as 't is; rough 'nough, too, as you-all 'd
sure know if you-all had ter trapse over them there hills all yer life
like I've had ter."

"But, isn't it wonderful to-night, Judy? It seems to me I have never
seen it so perfect."