Besides, she must
get some wood.
Carl instantly forgot the goat. He had forgotten everything,
indeed, except the trim little body who stood before him looking
into his eyes. He glowed all over with inward warmth and delight.
Nobody had ever cared before whether he was tired. When he was a
little fellow at home at Memlo his mother would sometimes worry
about his lifting the big baskets of fish all day, but he could
not remember that anybody else had ever given his feelings a
thought. All this flashed through his mind as he returned
Jennie's look.
"No, no! I not tire--I brang da wood." And then Jennie said she
never meant it, and Carl knew she didn't, of course; and then she
said she had never thought of such a thing, and he agreed to that;
and they talked so long over it, standing out in the radiance of
the noonday sun, the color coming and going in both their
faces,--Carl playing aimlessly with his tippet tassel, and Jennie
plaiting and pinching up the ruined apron,--that the fire in the
kitchen stove went out, and the Big Gray grew hungry and craned
his long neck around the shed and whinnied for Carl, and even
Stumpy the goat forgot his hair-breadth escape, and returned near
enough to the scene of the robbery to look down at it from the
hill above.
There is no telling how long the Big Gray would have waited if
Cully had not come home to dinner, bringing another horse with
Patsy perched on his back.
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