this place,
the tenants never kept the orchard up, and Emil and I used to come
over and take care of it ourselves. It needs mowing now. There
she is, down in the corner. Maria-a-a!" she called.

A recumbent figure started up from the grass and came running toward
them through the flickering screen of light and shade.

"Look at her! Isn't she like a little brown rabbit?" Alexandra
laughed.

Maria ran up panting and threw her arms about Alexandra. "Oh, I
had begun to think you were not coming at all, maybe. I knew you
were so busy. Yes, Emil told me about Mr. Linstrum being here.
Won't you come up to the house?"

"Why not sit down there in your corner? Carl wants to see the
orchard. He kept all these trees alive for years, watering them
with his own back."

Marie turned to Carl. "Then I'm thankful to you, Mr. Linstrum. We'd
never have bought the place if it hadn't been for this orchard, and
then I wouldn't have had Alexandra, either." She gave Alexandra's
arm a little squeeze as she walked beside her. "How nice your dress
smells, Alexandra; you put rosemary leaves in your chest, like I
told you."

She led them to the northwest corner of the orchard, sheltered on
one side by a thick mulberry hedge and bordered on the other by a
wheatfield, just beginning to yellow. In this corner the ground
dipped a little, and the blue-grass, which the weeds had driven out
in the upper part of the orchard, grew thick and luxuriant. Wild
roses were flaming in the tufts of bunchgrass along the fence.
Under a white mulberry tree there was an old wagon-seat. Beside
it lay a book and a workbasket.

"You must have the seat, Alexandra. The grass would stain your
dress," the hostess insisted. She dropped down on the ground
at Alexandra's side and tucked her feet under her. Carl sat at
a little distance from the two women, his back to the wheatfield,
and watched them. Alexandra took off her shade-hat and threw it on
the ground. Marie picked it up and played with the white ribbons,
twisting them about her brown fingers as she talked. They made a
pretty picture in the strong sunlight, the leafy pattern surrounding
them like a net; the Swedish woman so white and gold, kindly and
amused, but armored in calm, and the alert brown one, her full lips
parted, points of yellow light dancing in her eyes as she laughed
and chattered. Carl had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky's
eyes, and he was glad to have an opportunity to study them. The
bro