hey asked in vain.
Elizabeth was only conscious of the struggling hopes and
wishes that seemed crushed for ever, her own.

"She don't see nothin'," whispered Clam to Anderese, whom she
had joined in front. "She's lookin' into vacancy. If you don't
stop, our axe and parasol 'll walk all round the place, and
one 'll do as much work as the other. I can't put up my awning
till you cut down something to let the sun in."

The old man glanced back over his shoulder at his young lady.

"What be I goin' to do?" he whispered, with a sidelong glance
at Clam.

"Fling your axe into something," said Clam. "That'll bring her
up."

The old man presently stepped aside to a young sapling oak,
which having outgrown its strength bent its slim altitude in a
beautiful parabolic curve athwart the sturdy stems of cedars
and yellow pines which lined the path. Anderese stopped there
and looked at Elizabeth. She had stopped too, without noticing
him, and stood sending an intent, fixed, far-going look into
the pretty wilderness of rock and wood on the other side of
the way. All three stood silently.

"Will this do to come down, young lady?" inquired Anderese,
with his axe on his shoulder. Elizabeth faced about.

"'Twon't grow up to make a good tree -- it's slantin' off so
among the others." He brought his axe down.

"_That?_" said Elizabeth, -- "that reaching-over one? O no! you
mustn't touch that. What is it?"

"It's an oak, miss; it's good wood."

"It's a better tree. No indeed -- leave that. Never cut such
trees. Won't some of those old things do?"

"Them? -- them are cedars, young lady."

"Well, won't they do?"

"They'd fly all over and burn the house up," said Clam.

"What do you want?"

"Some o' the best there is, I guess," said Clam.

"Hard wood is the best, young lady."

"What's that?"

"Oak -- maple -- hickory -- and there's ash, and birch -- 'tain't
very good."

Elizabeth sighed, and led the way on again, while the old
negro shouldered his axe and followed with Clam; probably
sighing on his own part, if habitual gentleness of spirit did
not prevent. Nobody ever knew Clam do such a thing.

"Look at her!" muttered the damsel; -- "going with her head
down, -- when'll she see a tree? Ain't we on a march! Miss
'Lizabeth! -- the tree won't walk home after it's cut."

"What?" said her mistress.

"How'll it get there?"

"What?"

"The tree, Miss Lizzie -- when Anderese has cut it."

"Can't he carry some home?