slipped down the plain like a serpent making
for a covert in the first hills of the first world that ever was.

At a casual glance the vast plain seemed uninhabited, yet here and there
were men and horses, tiny in the vastness, but conquering. Here and
there also--for it was July--a haymaker sharpened his scythe, and the
sound came singing through the air radiant and stirring with life.

Seated in the shade of a clump of trees a girl sat with her chin in her
hands looking out over the prairie, an intense dreaming in her eyes. Her
horse was tethered near by, but it scarcely made a sound. It was a horse
which had once won a great race, with an Irish gentleman on his back.
Long time the girl sat absorbed, her golden colour, her brown-gold hair
in harmony with the universal stencil of gold. With her eyes drowned in
the distance, she presently murmured something to herself, and as she
did so the eyes deepened to a nameless umber tone, deeper than gold,
warmer than brown; such a colour as only can be found in a jewel or in a
leaf the frost has touched.

The frost had touched the soul which gave the colour to the eyes of the
girl. Yet she seemed all summer, all glow and youth and gladness. Her
voice was golden, too, and the words which fell from her lips were as
though tuned to the sound of falling water. The tone of the voice would
last when the gold of all else became faded or tarnished. It had its
origin in the soul:

"Whereaway goes my lad? Tell me, has he gone alone?
Never harsh word did I speak; never hurt I gave;
Strong he was and beautiful; like a heron he has flown
Hereaway, hereaway will I make my grave."

The voice lingered on the words till it trailed away into nothing, like
the vanishing note of a violin which seems still to pulse faintly after
the sound has ceased.

"But he did not go alone, and I have not made my grave," the girl
said, and raised her head at the sound of footsteps. With an effort she
emerged from the half-trance in which she had been, and smiled at a man
hastening towards her.

"Dear bully, bulbous being--how that word 'bully' would have, made her
cringe!" she said as the man ambled nearer. He could not go as fast as
his mind urged him.

"I've got news--news, news!" he exclaimed, wading through his own
perspiration to where she sat. "I can guess what it is," the girl
remarked smilingly, as she reached out a hand to him, but remained
seated. "It's a real, live baby