e fluttered as with swarms of scarlet butterflies. Above
the leathern carpet of last year's leaves shone the lilac disks of
autumn asters, and the brown, bee-like heads of self-heal, set with
tiny, purple trumpets. The chestnuts were thick with greenish-brown
burs.

"I see 'em! I see 'em!" Bobby cried, dancing gleefully, and making a
noiseless clapping with mittened hands. For a moment the sight of the
clustered burs among the pointed, russet leaves had made him forget his
Kill-joy, Loring.

"_Oh! Che splendore!_" cried Rosa, running up.

She and Loring threw sticks among the laden branches. The nuts came down
with pleasant _swups_ upon the smooth, thick mat of dead leaves.

It was charming to kneel there in the warm October sunlight, at the edge
of the rustling wood, pounding away the prickly hulls from the brown,
smooth chestnuts. A fresh, pleasant scent rose from the bruised hulls.
The breath of the autumn wood was keenly sweet. It smelt of wild grapes
and mushrooms. From a field close by stole the odour of pumpkins that
had been lying in the sun all day. And this mingled fragrance, so
deliciously of the earth earthy, seemed just the perfume that would be
shaken from October's russet smock as he strode across the land.

Sophy stood up at last. She lifted her arms in a boyish stretch, and
stamped her feet which had "pins and needles" in them from crouching so
long. Her big, clubbed plait had been somewhat loosened by her vigorous
pounding. Leaves and withered grasses clung to her short, cord skirt. As
she stood there stretching her cramped limbs, and laughing nervously as
her feet "woke up" again, with the light wind frowzing the loose strands
of hair about her face, and her short skirt disclosing her ankles in
their tight-laced, brown shooting-boots, she certainly looked quite
young enough, and girlish enough, to be Loring's sweetheart rather than
Bobby's mother.

And Loring was thinking vehemently, his hands clenched on the chestnuts
in his pockets:

"She's _got_ to love me.... I'll _make_ her love me.... I'll _make_ her
marry me.... I will.... I will!"

"Ouf!" said Sophy, letting her arms drop. "That was delicious! And what
are you so fiercely determined over? You look ... but I won't say what
you look like----"

"No ... don't, please," replied Loring shortly.

He turned away to help Rosa adjust the top of her hamper, which would
not fit into place over the hard, round chestnuts.

It was beautifully s