She walked
in upon him where he was standing over the kitchen stove, warming his
hands at the first blaze. Susan's cheeks were red with the challenge of
the stinging air, but she had the look of one who, living by a larger
law, has banished the foolishness of fear. She walked straight up to
him and proffered him her flowers.
"Here, Solon," she said, "it's Christmas. I brought you these."
Solon looked at her and at them, in slow surprise. He put out both
hands and took them awkwardly.
"Well!" he said, "Well!"
Susan was smiling at him. It seemed to her at that moment that the
world was a very rich place, because you may take all you want and give
all you choose, while nobody is the wiser.
"Well," remarked Solon again, "I guess I'll put 'em into water." He
laid them down on a chair. "Susan, do you remember that time I walked
over to Pine Hill to pick you some mayflowers, when you was gittin'
over the lung fever?"
She nodded.
"Susan," said he desperately, "what if I should ask you to forgit old
scores an' begin all over?"
"I ain't laid up anything," answered Susan, looking him full in the
face with her brilliant smile.
"There's suthin' I've wanted to tell ye, this two year. I never s'posed
you knew, but that night I kissed your sister in the entry an' asked
her, I thought 't was you.
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