the russet-coloured trees with their burden of reddening apples.
Robin was there alone--he was busied in putting up a sturdy prop
under one of the longer branches of a tree heavily laden with
fruit. He saw her and smiled--but went on with his work.

"Are you very busy?" she asked, approaching him almost timidly.

"Just now, yes! In a moment, no! We shall lose this big bough in
the next high wind if I don't take care."

She waited--watching the strength and dexterity of his hands and
arms, and the movements of his light muscular figure. In a little
while he had finished all he had to do--and turning to her said,
laughingly--

"Now I am at your service! You look very serious!--grave as a
little judge, and quite reproachful! What have I done?--or what
has anybody done that you should almost frown at me on this bright
sun-shiny morning?"

She smiled in response to his gay, questioning look.

"I'm sorry I have such a depressing aspect," she said--"I don't
feel very happy, and I suppose my face shows it."

He was silent for a minute or two, watching her with a grave
tenderness in his eyes.

By and by he spoke, gently--