" And Carolyn, despite his facetiousness, felt
more than ever that he might easily become a poet. Medora
viewed the floating leaves with indulgent appreciation. "But
don't let's cumber ourselves with many cares," she suggested;
"we are here to make the best of the afternoon. Let's out and
away,--the sooner the better."
The three soon set forth for a stroll through spring's reviving
domain. Cope walked between Medora and Carolyn, or
ahead of them, impartially sweeping away twigs and flowering
branches from before their faces. The young junipers were putting
forth tender new tips; the bright leaves of the sassafras
shone forth against the pines. Above the newly-rounded tops of
the oaks and maples in the valley below them the Three Witches
rose gauntly; and off on their far hill the two companion pines--(how
had he named them? Romeo and Juliet? Pelleas and Melisande?)--still
lay their dark heads together in mysterious confidences
under the heightening glow of the late afternoon sun.
Carolyn looked from them back to Cope and gave him a shy
smile.
He did not quite smile back. Carolyn was well enough, however.
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