in a ring of new
grass. Clear lay the pebbles and roots at the bottom; clear was the
reflection of the feathering trees about it; clear shone the eyes of
William Thayer as he joyously swam for sticks across it. Great
patches of sun warmed the grass and cheered the hearts of two happy
wanderers, who fortified themselves from a lunch-basket padded with
a red-fringed napkin. Happy yellow dandelions were spotted about,
and the birds chirped unceasingly; the wind puffed the whole spring
into their eager nostrils. Truly a pleasant picture! As in a dream,
Caroline walked softly down the steps and toward the north.

For ten minutes she kept steadily on, looking neither to the right
nor to the left, when the rattle of a particularly noisy wagon
attracted her attention. She caught the eye of the driver; it was
the egg-and-chicken man. He nodded cheerfully.

"Hello, there!" said he.

"Hello!" Caroline returned. "You going home?"

"Sure," said the egg-and-chicken man. "Want a ride?"

Caroline wasted no breath in words, but clambered up to the seat
beside him.

"Startin' out early, ain't you?" he queried. "Goin' far up my way?"

"Pretty far," she answered cautiously, "but not so very."

"Oh!" said he, impressed by such diplomacy. "'Bout where, now?"

"Have you sold many eggs this morning?" she inquired with amiable
interest.

"Twenty-three dozen, an' seven pair o' broilers," he informed her.
"Goin' as far as my place?"

"I s'pose it's pretty cold as early as you get up," Caroline
suggested pleasantly.

The egg-and-chicken man surrendered. "Middling," he answered
respectfully, "but it smells so good and things looks so pretty, I
don't mind. I'm glad I don't live in the city. It's all pavin'-stone
an' smoke. This time o' year I like to feel the dirt under m' feet,
somehow."

"So do I," said Caroline fervently. They jogged on for a mile in
silence.

"I have to get out here," said he, finally, "but don't be scared.
That horse won't move a peg without me. I'll be back in a minute."

But when he returned she was not there.

The houses were thinning out rapidly; one side of the road was
already only a succession of fields, and along a tiny worn path
through one of these Caroline was hurrying nervously. She crossed
the widening brook, almost a little river now, and kept along its
farther bank for half an hour, then left it and struck into the
fringe of the woods.

It was very still here; the road was far away, and o