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Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"


Her pulses leaped with abundant life; the wet road lured her eager feet.
She went out, leaving the gate open, and turned toward the woods, where
a flock of wild geese, breasting the chill winds far above the river,
was steadily cleaving a passage to the friendly North.
When she reached the woods, where the white birches stood like shy
dryads among the oaks, she heard once more the robin's flutelike call.
It was answered by another, exactly upon the same notes, yet wholly
different as to quality. Presently, among the trees, she caught a
glimpse of a tall man, and she paused for an instant, frightened. Then
her heart leaped and her cheeks burned, as she saw who it was.
"Boy!" she called, clearly. "Oh, Boy!"
Allison turned, startled, then came to her, smiling, hat in hand. "Upon
my word," he said. "I didn't think there was anyone else mad enough to
come out at this hour."
"Why it's Spring! Didn't you know?"
"Yes. It came this morning just before sunrise."
"Were you awake?"
"Yes, were you?"
"Of course," she answered. "I couldn't stay in."
"Nor could I.


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