ith an angry stamping and banging of doors, but he could not
find his father or the doughnuts. "Father!" he called, in an angry
shout, standing in the doorway, "Father!" But there was no reply, and
he went back to the others with the jug of sweetened water. Rebecca
watched him with furtive, anxious eyes, but he avoided looking at
her. When he passed her a tumbler of sweetened water she took it and
thanked him fervently, but he did not seem to heed her at all.

After dinner they played romping games under the trees--hunt the
slipper, and button, and Copenhagen. Mrs. Barnard and two other women
had come over to see the festivity, and they sat at a little distance
with Mrs. Berry, awkwardly disposed against the trunks of trees, with
their feet tucked under their skirts to keep them from the damp
ground.

Copenhagen was the favorite game of the young people, and they played
on and on while the afternoon deepened. Clinging to the rope they
formed a struggling ring, looping this way and that way as the
pursuers neared them. Their laughter and gay cries formed charming
discords; their radiant faces had the likeness of one family of
flowers, through their one expression. The wind blew harder; the
girls' muslin skirts clung to their limbs as they moved against it,
and flew out around their heels in fluttering ruffles. The cherry
boughs tossed over their heads full of crisp whispers among their
dark leaves and red fruit clusters. Over across the field, under the
low-swaying boughs, showed the old red wall of the tavern, and
against it a great mass of blooming phlox, all vague with distance
like purple smoke. Over on the left, fence rails glistened purple in
the sun and wind--a bluebird sat on a crumbling post and sang. But
the young men and girls playing Copenhagen saw and heard nothing of
these things.

They heard only that one note of love which all unwittingly, and
whether they would or not, they sang to each other through all the
merry game. Charlotte heard it whether she would or not, and so did
Barney, and it produced in them as in the others a reckless
exhilaration in spite of their sadness. William Berry forgot all his
mortification and annoyance as he caught Rebecca's warm fingers on
the rope and bent over her red, averted cheek. Barney, when he had
grasped Rose's hands, which had fairly swung the rope his way, kissed
her with an ardor which had in it a curious, fierce joy, because at
that moment he caught a glimpse