Molly threw aside her listless mood like a garment.

"Will you?" she cried. "Oh, I'd like to! You know I'm sewin' for Mis'
Eli Pike; an' they asked me to go, but I knew she'd fill up the seat so
I should crowd 'em out of house an' home. Will you, Dilly?"

"You wait till I git suthin' or other to put over my head," said Dilly,
rising with cheerful decision. "Here, you gi' me that cake! I'll tie it
up in a nice clean piece o' table-cloth, an' then we'll take along a
few eggs, so 't we can trade 'em off for bread an' cheese. You jest
pull in my sheets, an' shet the winder, while I do it. Like as not
there'll be a shower this arternoon."

When the little gate closed behind them, Molly felt eagerly excited,
as, if she were setting forth for a year's happy wandering. Dilly knew
the ways of the road as well as the wood. She was, as usual, in light
marching order, a handkerchief tied over her smooth braids; another,
slung on a stick over her shoulder, contained their luncheon and the
eggs for barter. All her movements were buoyant and free, like those of
a healthy animal let loose in pleasant pastures. She walked so lightly
that the eggs in the handkerchief were scarcely stirred.

"See that little swampy patch!" she said, stopping when they had
rounded the curve in the road. "A week or two ago, that was all alive
with redbud flowers. I dunno the right name on 'em, an' I don't care.
Redbirds, I call 'em. I went over there, one day, an' walked along
between the hummocks, spush! spush! You won't find a nicer feelin' than
that, wherever ye go. Take off your shoes an' stockin's, an' wade into
a swamp! Warm, coarse grass atop! Then warm, black mud, an' arter that,