That few words accompanied his offerings was matter of little moment,
since what he would have said was easily enough read in his face. It was
sufficient that his eyes spoke, that they followed her motions, that he
seemed never ready to go so long as she remained, that when she went he
could not long stay behind.
Poor David! It wasn't his fault. He didn't mean to. Everybody knew 't
wasn't a bit like him. He was charmed. And that reminds me of what Miss
Joey said to Mr. Lane, the old man.
It was just about sundown, and they two were sitting in the front-room,
looking out of the windows. It had been a sultry day. I was trying to
keep comfortable, and had found a nice little seat just outside the
door, underneath the lilacs.
Mary Ellen and David came slowly walking past. They didn't seem to be
saying much. She had come out bareheaded, just for a little fresh air
and a stroll round the house. How cool she looked, in her light blue
gown, and her white apron, that tied behind with white bows and strings,
or streams! A May-bee buzzed about their ears, and lighted on her
shoulder.
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