trouble was going on, and that Hale could come over for her when
he pleased: and Hale sent word back that within three days he
would meet the father and the little girl at the big Pine. That
last day at home June passed in a dream. She went through her
daily tasks in a dream and she hardly noticed young Dave when he
came in at mid-day, and Dave, when he heard the news, left in
sullen silence. In the afternoon she went down to the mill to tell
Uncle Billy and ole Hon good-by and the three sat in the porch a
long time and with few words. Ole Hon had been to the Gap once,
but there was "so much bustle over thar it made her head ache."
Uncle Billy shook his head doubtfully over June's going, and the
two old people stood at the gate looking long after the little
girl when she went homeward up the road. Before supper June
slipped up to her little hiding-place at the pool and sat on the
old log saying good-by to the comforting spirit that always
brooded for her there, and, when she stood on the porch at sunset,
a new spirit was coming on the wings of the South wind. Hale felt
it as he stepped into the soft night air; he heard it in the
piping of frogs--"Marsh-birds," as he always called them; he could
almost see it in the flying clouds and the moonlight and even the
bare trees seemed tremulously expectant. An indefinable happiness
seemed to pervade the whole earth and Hale stretched his arms
lazily. Over in Lonesome Cove little June felt it more keenly than
ever in her life before. She did not want to go to bed that night,
and when the others were asleep she slipped out to the porch and
sat on the steps, her eyes luminous and her face wistful--looking
towards the big Pine which pointed the way towards the far silence
into which she was going at last.