think how lonely
it is to live there. I can't go away. I have no fortune, no friends, no
people. What would people say to me and of me out in the great world?
Well, I went to Squire Fields, and I had a long talk with Sylvia."

The girl starts, and almost chokes.

"Been to see Sylvia Fields!" and with her booted foot she kicks the bark
of a tree with all her might. "Had a long talk with her!" Then she
whirls around, plunges her hand in her pocket, and swings her dress and
says, as she pouts out her mouth,

"Oh, I feel just awful!"

John Logan approaches her.

"Why, Carrie, what's the matter?"

Carrie still swings herself, and turns her back to the man as she says,
half savagely,

"I don't know what's the matter, and I don't care what's the matter; but
I feel just awful, I do! I feel just like the dickens!"

"But, Carrie, you ought to be very, very happy, with all this beautiful
scenery, and the sweet air in your hair and on your rosy face. And then
what a lady you have grown to be! Now don't look cross at me like that!
You ought to be as happy as a bird."

"But I ain't happy; I ain't happy a bit, I ain't!" Then, after a pause
she continues:

"I don't like that Gar Dosson. He was here looking for you."

"Here? Looking for me?"

"Yes, and he called old Forty-nine Old Blossom-nose. I just hate him."

"Oh, well, Carrie, you know Forty-nine does drink dreadfully, and you
know he has got a dreadful red face."

"Mr. John Logan," cries Carrie, hotly, "Forty-nine don't drink
dreadfully. He don't drink dreadfully at all. He does take something for
his ager, but he don't drink."

"Well, his face is dreadful red, anyway," answers John Logan.

Carrie, swinging her foot and thoughtfully looking up at the trees,
says, after a pause:

"Do the trees drink? Do the trees and the bushes drink, John Logan?
Their faces get awfully red in the fall, too."

"Carrie, you are cross to-day."

Carrie, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her dress as if she would
shake it off her, snaps: "I ain't cross."

"Yes, you are," and the tawny man comes up to her and speaks in a kindly
tone: "But come. Many a pleasant walk we have had in these woods
together, and many a pleasant time we will have together still."

"We won't!"

"Ah, but we will! Come, you must not be so cross!"

The girl leans her forehead against the tree on her lifted arm, and
swings her other foot. She looks down at the rounded ankle, and says,
almost savagely