XI 



THE DRAPERY OF VINES 



VINES are terrible cur'ous natured things," 

 said Time o' Year, the week after the 

 great August storm that had uprooted trees, 

 swept away frail bridges, gullied the hillsides, and 

 furrowed the fields of standing corn as with a 

 Juggernaut car. He was at work outside his 

 cabin, trying to replace the drapery of vines that 

 concealed the rough chestnut slabs before the 

 wind had rudely rent and twisted them; touching 

 each prostrate branch and relaxed tendril as gently 

 as if it was a sensate thing sorely bruised and 

 wounded. 



"All that keeps 'em from standing up and being 

 like trees and other plants is weak backbones, 

 that makes 'em fall over and hang hold of some- 

 295 



