cuddle rabbits or birds against her brown, lean cheek, and hug her
setter enthusiastically. Peter suffered an agony of sympathy
whenever she spoke of a child.

"I'd hate all the preliminary fussing, Pete--we both would! But
oh, if the Lord would send me six or eight of them!"

Then and then only did the bright eyes and the confident voice
soften, and then only was Alix no longer a flat, straight,
splendid boy, but a woman indeed.




CHAPTER XII


Cherry, Peter saw at once, was different in every way. Cherry was
full of softness, of ready response to any appeal, of sympathy and
comprehension. She had been misunderstood, unhappy, neglected; she
had developed through suffering a certain timidity that was almost
a shrinking, a certain shy clinging to what was kind and good.

Her happiness here was an hourly delight to both Alix and himself.
She seemed to flower softly; every day of the simple forest life
brought her new interest, new energy, new bloom. She and Alix
washed their hair again, dammed the creek again, tramped and sang
duets again. Sometimes they cooked, often they went into the old
senseless spasms of laughter at nothing, or almost nothing.