h of laurel bushes close beside the path, a tall, slender
form stood forth, the lissome figure of a girl in the budding charm of
womanhood. There was a lithe, curving beauty in the lines that the
scant homespun gown outlined so clearly. The swift movement by which
she revealed herself was instinct with grace. As she rested
motionless, with arms extended in a gesture of appeal, there was a
singular dignity in the pose, a distinction of personality that was in
no wise marred by bare feet and shapeless gown; not even by the
uncouthness of dialect, when she spoke. And winsomeness of form and
bearing was crowned by the beauty of her face, in which the insipidity
of regular features was redeemed by exquisite coloring of rose and
white, and by the dusk brilliance of the eyes. The tender lips were
wreathed to playful reproach, as she addressed the lover for whom she
thus waited at the dawn:

"Zekie--oh, Zekie! Ye hain't a-cussin' o' me, be ye?"

The young man, surprised, started, and regarded the girl in confusion.
The red that had suffused his tanned cheeks deepened to a burning
blush of embarrassment, as he realized that his outburst had been
overheard by her who had been the cause of it. But his eyes met her
quizzical glance with candid directness. After a moment, he spoke. All
the harshness was gone from his voice; its soft drawl was vibrant with
tenderness.

"No, Honey, I hain't a'cussin' o' you-all. I was jest a-mentionin'
some folks. But I hain't a-feared. Nobody hain't a-goin' to steal yer
love from me."

"Nobody--never, Zeke!" the girl answered, simply. There was an
infinite honesty, an unalterable loyalty, in the curt words.

As he listened, the flush died from the lover's face; contentment
shone in his expression.

"I knowed hit, Honey--I knowed hit all the time. I know when I come
back I'll find ye waitin'."

"Ye'll come back, I reckon, with fool idees 'bout what yer women-folks
ought to wear, like them furriners down below." Her face relaxed into
a genial smile, which brought a dimple to shadow the pink bloom of her
cheek. But there was a trace of pensiveness; the vague hint of
jealousy in the slow tones:

"Yes, I'll be a-waitin' till ye come, Zekie. An' if the wearin' o'
shoes an' stockin's 'll make ye any happier, why, I guess I kin stand
'em--an' them ladies' straighteners, too. Yep, I'd wear 'em, if they
did squeeze me fit to bust."

Since Plutina had thus come to meet him, there was no need that he