go. They will be coming up this road to meet me.
Father was going to take him for a walk before supper."

Just then we came upon the Silent Woman sitting among the dandelions by
the roadside. She held a cup in her hand with some honey on its bottom
and covered with a piece of glass.

"She is hunting bees," I said as we stopped beside her.

She rose and patted my shoulder with a smile and threw a kiss to Sally.
Suddenly her face grew stern. She pointed toward the village and then at
Sally. Up went her arm high above her head with one finger extended in
that ominous gesture so familiar to me.

"She means that there is some danger ahead of you," I said.

The Silent Woman picked a long blade of grass and tipped its end in the
honey at the bottom of the cup. She came close to Sally with the blade
of grass between her thumb and finger.

"She is fixing a charm," I said.

She smiled and nodded as she put a drop of honey on Sally's upper lip.

She held up her hands while her lips moved as if she were blessing us.

"I suppose it will not save me if I brush it off," said Sally.

We went on and in a moment a bee lighted on the honey. Nervously she
struck at it and then cried out with pain.

"The bee has stung you," I said.

She covered her face with her handkerchief and made no answer.

"Wait a minute--I'll get some clay," I said as I ran to the river bank.

I found some clay and moistened it with the water and returned.

"There, look at me!" she groaned. "The bee hit my nose."

She uncovered her face, now deformed almost beyond recognition, her nose
having swollen to one of great size and redness.

"You look like Rodney Barnes," I said with a laugh as I applied the clay
to her afflicted nose.

"And I feel like the old boy. I think my nose is trying to jump off and
run away."

The clay having been well applied she began surveying herself with a
little hand mirror which she had carried in the pocket of her riding
coat.

"What a fright I am!" she mused.

"But you are the best girl in the world."

"Don't waste your pretty talk on me now. I can't enjoy it--my nose aches
so. I'd rather you'd tell me when--when it is easier for you to say it."

"We don't see each other very often."

"If you will come out on this road next Saturday afternoon I will ride
until I find you and then we can have another talk."

"All right. I'll be here at four-thirty and I'll be thinking about it
every day until then."

"My nose