country people rush together just before her. One said:

"Well, what in the world are you doin' here?"

"I swan, is that you? What are you doin' here?"

"Oh-h-h, we had to see the Fair, couldn't miss it, you know, not if it
took a leg."

"That's right, that's right. Bring your folks?"

"Oh, yes, they're around here somewhere. Mother's about fagged. Says
she'd rather cook for harvest hands than walk all day. Going to stay
long?"

"Calculate on being here all next week if body and soul stick together.
'Spose you'll be here sometime."

"Can't tell yet. Just about give up seeing it all. Half the time don't
know whether I'm on my head or my heels. Blamedest place I ever struck."

"That's right, that's right."

It was enough to cause her to smile at their homely enthusiasm, and the
striking contrast of language. It was a relief to hear intelligible
language once more, and in the rural dialect so familiar to her ears.

The soft, balmy days of June were now in their glory, and Uncle and Aunt
sometimes spent nearly the whole day sitting around on Wooded Island
imagining they could hear their cattle lowing in the pasture across the
creek, and dreaming their lives over again from their early happy days.
It was so peaceful there. Then they loved to go over by the lake and
look upon it as a painted ocean, as calm and quiet as a pond of Raphael.
It was something to see the stretch of blue go on till it touched the
low-hung clouds at the edge of the world. Beyond the mists and the smoke
of the white steamers were dimly outlined streaks of yellow and light,
which turned the whole heavens into a softened sky of good promise. In
the foreground of the vista the giant figures of victory, with charging
horses and chariot, and all the Apollos and Neptunes, stood out like
silhouettes. There was no noise save the ripple of the water down the
cascade at Columbia's feet. Gentle winds lapped the waves along the
beach, the furious breakers of other days were toned into a delicate
murmur, which sounded very like some sweet symphony or the hymn of a
winged choir. Waves which had for weeks been tangled masses of white
caps and had thrashed with frantic anger the bases of the towering
pillars dropped to the dainty ripples of a summer breeze. There was no
crash, no roar, no splashing spray, driven on by a gale that snorted and
snapped. So delicately and silently did the waters kiss the shore that
sparrows and wrens and a flock of wandering