"That was what they told me," he said, laughing; "but I escaped from my
keepers."
"You will undoubtedly take cold,--without your hat!"
"Yes; I shall undoubtedly have pneumonia from exposure to the Virginia
sunshine. I take my chances."
"You may sit on the wall for three minutes; then you must go back. I can
not be responsible for the life of a wounded hero."
"Please!" He held up his hand. "That's what I came to talk to you about."
"About being a hero? You have taken an unfair advantage. I was going to
send for the latest designs in laurel wreaths to-morrow."
She sat down beside him on the wall. The sheep were a grayish blur
against the green. A little negro boy was shepherding them, and they
scampered before him toward the farther end of the pasture. The faint and
vanishing tinkle of a bell, and the boy's whistle, gave emphasis to the
country-quiet of the late afternoon. They spoke rapidly and impersonally
of his adventures in the hills and of his illness. When they looked at
each other it was with swift laughing glances. Her cheeks and hands
were-already brown,--an honest brown won from May and June in the open
field,--not that blistered, peeling scarlet that marks the insincere
devotee of racket, driver and oar, who jumps into the game in August, but
the real brown conferred by the dear mother of us all upon the faithful
who go forth to meet her in April.
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