n
my trousers' leg brought me to myself, and I bent down to pat the yellow
head of Fido, who had espied me, and instantly besought recognition.

"You poor, dumb, faithful thing," I apostrophized, looking at the bright
eyes which shone love into mine. "You are spared this agony of soul,
and the futile efforts to solve problems which cannot be known. You love
me, and I love you; why could we both not be content?"

"Is Fido going, too?"

I composed my face with an effort, and straightened up as the cheery
voice hailed me. She was coming towards me like a woodland sprite,
floating, it seemed to me, for her gliding step was so free from any
pronounced undulation. Her dress of blue checked gingham just escaped
the ground, and she wore a gingham sunbonnet with two long strings,
which she held in either hand. The sunbonnet was tilted back, and her
laughing face, with its rich, delicate under-color of old wine, was fit
for a god to kiss.

"Yes, we will take him along if you do not object. He was the companion
of my rambles before you came. We will make a congenial three."

Tom approached with a bucket of salt, which, after an exaggerated scrape
of the foot and a pull at his forelock, he handed to me, and we set out.

Our way led through the orchard at the back of the house, where grew, I
think, all sorts of apples known to man. Each bough was freighted with
its burden of round, green fruit, and here and there an Early Harvest
tree was spattered with golden patches, where the ripened apples hung in
their green bower. Beyond the orchard lay a woods pasture, formed of a
succession of gentle swells, the heavy bluegrass turf soft as an
Oriental carpet to the feet, while scattered about were hundreds of
magnificent trees, mostly oak and poplar. Dotting the sward were
numerous little white balls on long stems,--dandelions gone to seed.
These Salome plucked constantly, and, filling her cheeks with wind,
would blow like Boreas, until her face was purple. When I inquired the
purpose of this queer performance, I was shyly informed that it was to
tell if her sweetheart loved her. If she blew every one of the pappus
off at one breath, he loved her; if she didn't, he didn't love her. She
was certainly very much concerned about the matter, for every ball she
came to she plucked and blew. Sometimes all the pappus disappeared, and
sometimes they didn't, and so she never reached a decided conclusion.

The pasture crossed, a rail fence rose