around.

To Roger, who was cradling oats in an adjacent field, they made a
picture which would always repeat itself whenever he passed that
clump of hemlocks; and, as he cut his way down the long slope toward
them, under the midsummer sun, he paused a second after each stroke
to look with wistful gaze at one now rarely absent from his mental
vision. She was too sad and preoccupied to give him a thought, or
even to note who the reaper was. From her shady retreat she could
see him and other men at work here and there, and she only envied
their definite and fairly rewarded toil, and their simple yet
assured home-life, while she was working so blindly, and facing,
in the meantime, a world of uncertainty. Roger had been very
unobtrusive since her father's departure, and she half consciously
gave him credit for this when she thought about him at all, which
was but seldom. He had imagined that she had grown less distant and
reserved, and once or twice, when he had shown some little kindness
to the children, she had smiled upon him. He was a hunter of no mean
repute in that region, and was famous for his skill in following
shy and scarce game. He had resolved to bring the principles of his
woodcraft to bear upon Mildred, and to make his future approaches so
cautiously as not to alarm her in the least; therefore he won the
children's favor more thoroughly than ever, but not in an officious
way. He found Belle moping the evening after her father's departure,
and he gave her a swift drive in his buggy, which little attention
completely disarmed the warm-hearted girl and became the basis of
a fast-ripening friendship.

"You need not put on such distant airs," she had said to Mildred;
"he never mentions your name any more." But when he asked Mrs.