Her own interest in the occupation was enhanced by
the colloquy that ensued whenever she passed her small guest. "Hello,
Archie!" she would call for the sake of hearing the saucy, jocose
response: "Oh, oo Gad-ish!" as the juvenile convoy fared along with his
small cargo.
Lillian felt that she could not wait. Gladys might come at her leisure.
She burst impulsively out of the door, throwing on her hat as she went,
albeit wincing that she must needs pass Bayne at close quarters as he
still lounged in the veranda swing. He looked up at the sound of the
swift step and the sudden stir, and for one instant their eyes met--an
inscrutable look, fraught with an undivined meaning. For their lives,
neither could have translated its deep intendment. She said no word, and
he merely lifted his hat ceremoniously and once more bent his eyes on his
book.
She was like a thing long imprisoned, liberated by some happy chance. Her
feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground as she sped along down the
ravine, then across the rustic bridge that spanned the chasm through
which rushed the tumultuous mountain stream foaming among the boulders
deep in its depths, and breaking ever and anon into crystal cascades.
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