Once, as they walked together along the road, Raymond took hold of
her hand. He had done that much before, but this was different.
Those other times did not count. She knew that this was different
and that he, too, knew it was different. They glanced at each other,
and then quickly away.
Then, when they turned off into a field, to avoid meeting people who
might ask questions, Raymond held together the barbed wires of the
fence very carefully, so she could creep under without mishap. And
when they neared the woods, he kicked all the twigs from her path,
and lifted aside the underbrush lest it touch her face. And at each
opportunity for this delicious solicitude they would look at each
other, and then quickly away.
That was in many ways an unforgettable picnic; many were the
unheard-of things carried out as soon as thought of. For example,
the matter of lunch. What need to go hungry when there were eggs in
a farmer's henhouse not a half-mile away, and potatoes in the
farmer's store-house, and sundry other edibles all spread out, as if
waiting, in the farmer's cellar? (Blessings on the farmer's wife for
going avisiting that day!)
The boys made an ingenious oven of stones and a glorious fire of
brush; and the girls made cunning dishes out of big, clean-washed
leaves.
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