A JOURNEY TO NATURE 



feet were covered with broken slippers, into which 

 the prickles of the burrs were saucily sticking. 

 She wore a dilapidated chip hat, with a bit of blue 

 ribbon on it, and under it the chestnut curls were 

 trying to imitate the tree above her with golden 

 interlacing and burnished strands. 



&quot; Why, you poor little mother spark,&quot; said the 

 Doctor, kissing her squarely on the bulgy cheek, 

 and throwing her up on one arm, as he took the 

 pail in his other hand. &quot; He wouldn t even pull 

 the prickles out of your shoes, the young Indian.&quot; 



&quot; He don t tare a bit,&quot; said the chestnut, as her 

 arm went round the Doctor s neck. 



&quot; Of course he doesn t ; boys don t care for 

 anything. But we ll just beat him dead. You 

 and I ll fill the pail. Don t cry any more. Let 

 me wipe the wet off your chubby little face.&quot; 



&quot; I don t like to hunt for chesn s,&quot; she said. 

 And this conveyed to the Doctor the whole 

 inscrutable sex difference in these germs. She 

 wasn t interested in chestnuts. Her heart was 

 broken because chestnuts had made the only 

 companion she had utterly indifferent to her. 

 It was like discovering a tiny rill of the universal 

 sweet water trying to come up between the stones 

 and the stubble. 



&quot; Of course, of course, what can you expect 

 of a puppy man ? He s young and inhuman. 

 Look at me, my dear.&quot; 



I think the spark of woman understood clearly 

 what the Doctor did not say, namely, that he was 

 old and sympathetic, for she wound her brown 



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