hat and feathers her little face seemed like a white flower. She
had a deep dimple near her mouth. Her hair was a rich coppery red
and hung heavy and long about her cheeks and shoulders. She
lifted her head a little when the child in the common hat and
frock pressed through the greenness of the bushes and she looked
at Judith just as the bird and the squirrel had looked at her.
They gazed as if they had known each other for ages of years and
were separated by nothing. Each of them was quite happy at being
near the other, and there was not in the mind of either any
question of their not being near each other again. The question
did not rise in Judith's mind even when in a very few minutes the
carriage moved away and was lost in the crowd of equipages
rolling by.

At the hottest hours of the hot night Judith recalled to herself
the cool of that day. She brought back the fresh pale greenness
of the nook among the bushes into which she had forced her way,
the scent of the leaves and grass which she had drawn in as she
breathed, the nearness in the eyes of the bird, the squirrel, and
the child. She smiled as she thought of these things, and as she
continued to remember yet other things, bit by bit, she felt less
hot--she gradually forgot to listen for the roar of the
train--she smiled still more--she lay quite still--she was
cool--a tiny fresh breeze fluttered through the window and played
about her forehead. She was smiling in soft delight as her
eyelids drooped and closed.

"I am falling awake," she was murmuring as her lashes touched her
cheek.