iked it.
He almost wished she would never change it for his. "After father died I
hunted and hunted for those little books, but I never could find them."

"You remember him so well, won't you tell me how he looked?"

She slowly brought her eyes down from the mountain top and fixed them on
his face. "Sometimes--just for a minute--you make me think of him--but
you don't look like him. I never heard any one laugh like he could
laugh--and with his eyes, too. He was tall like you, and he carried his
shoulders high like you do when you hurry, but he was a dark man. When
he stood here in the door of the loom shed, his head touched the top. I
thought of it when you stood here a bit ago and had to stoop. He always
did that." She lifted her gaze again to the mountain, and was silent.

"Tell me a little more? Just a little? Don't you remember anything he
said?"

"He used to preach, but I was too little to remember what he said. They
used to have preaching in the schoolhouse, and in winter he used to
teach there--when he could get the children to come. They had no books,
but he marked with charcoal where they could all see, and showed them
writing and figures; but somehow they got the idea he didn't know
religion right, and they wouldn't go to hear him any more. Mother says
it nigh broke his heart, for he fell to ailing and grew that thin and
white he couldn't climb to his path any more." She stopped and put her
hand to her throat, as her way was. She too had grown white with the
ache of sorrowful remembrance. He thought it cruel to urge her, but
felt impelled to ask for more.

"And then?"

"Yes. One day we were all alone sitting right here in the loom shed
door. He put one hand on my head, and then he put the other hand under
my chin and turned my face to look in his eyes--so great and far--like
they could see through your heart. Seems like I can feel the touch of
his hand here yet and hear him say: 'Little daughter, never be like the
rest. Be separate, and God will send for you some day here on the
mountain. He will send for you on the mountain top. He will compass you
about and lift you up and you shall be blessed.' Then he kissed me and
went into the house. I could hear him still saying it as he walked, 'On
the mountain top one will come for you, on the mountain top.' He went in
and lay down, and I sat here and waited. It seemed like my heart stood
still waiting for him to come back to me, and it must have been more
than