His head was busy
with new thoughts and his lips were whistling merrily, for today Zora
was to show him the long dreamed of spot for the planting of the Silver
Fleece. He hastened toward the Cresswell mansion, and glanced anxiously
up the road. At last he saw her coming, swinging down the road, lithe
and dark, with the big white basket of clothes poised on her head.
"Zora," he yodled, and she waved her apron.
He eased her burden to the ground and they sat down together, he
nervous and eager; she silent, passive, but her eyes restless. Bles was
full of his plans.
"Zora," he said, "we'll make it the finest bale ever raised in Tooms;
we'll just work it to the inch--just love it into life."
She considered the matter intently.
"But,"--presently,--"how can we sell it without the Cresswells knowing?"
"We won't try; we'll just take it to them and give them half, like the
other tenants."
"But the swamp is mortal thick and hard to clear."
"We can do it."
Zora had sat still, listening; but now, suddenly, she leapt to her feet.
"Come," she said, "I'll take the clothes home, then we'll go"--she
glanced at him--"down where the dreams are." And laughing, they hurried
on.
Elspeth stood in the path that wound down to the cottage, and without a
word Zora dropped the basket at her feet. She turned back; but Bles,
struck by a thought, paused.
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