Innocently working. Innocently darning, reading, writing.'
I don't suspect myself so why should any one else suspect me!"
Fanny broke off and laughed.
"Come along and cut wood!"
They moved off into the woods as people with not a care in the world,
and coming upon a snow-covered stack of great logs which had been piled
by some one else, began to steal one or two and drag them away into a
deep woodland drive where they could cut them up without fear of
being noticed.
They worked on for an hour, and then Stewart drew a packet of cake from
her coat pocket, and sitting upon the logs they had their tea.
Soon Fanny, wringing her hands, cried:
"I'm blue again, stiff again, letting the cold in, letting the snow
gnaw. Where's the hatchet?"
For a time she chopped and hacked, and Stewart, shepherding the
splinters which flew into the snow, piled them--splinters, most precious
of all--_petit bois_ to set a fire alight; and the afternoon grew bluer,
deeper. Stewart worked in a reverie--Fanny in a heat of expectation. One
mused reposedly on life--the other warmly of the immediate hours
before her.
"Now I'm going to fetch the car," said Stewart at last. "Will you stay
here and go on cutting till I come? There are two more logs."
She walked away up the drive, and Fanny picked the hatchet out of the
snow and started on the leathery, damp end of a fresh log.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167