Her hair was a soft gold
such as one sees sometimes upon the head of a child or in the pictures
of angels, and it was cut short and curled in distracting little rings
about her head, and framed softly her smooth forehead. Her eyes
were brown and soft and wistful--with a twinkle at the corners,
nevertheless, which brightened them wonderfully; and although her
mouth drooped slightly with the same wistfulness, a little smile
lurked there also, as though her life had been spent largely in
longing for the unattainable, and in laughing at herself because she
knew the futility of the longing.
"I hope you've taken a good look at Jerry's face," she said, "and seen
that he ain't half as bad as he tries to make out. Jerry'll make a
fine neighbor for any man if he's let be; and we do want a home of
our own, awful bad! We was ten years paying for a little farm back
in Illinois, and then we lost it at the last minute because there was
something wrong with the deed, and we didn't have any money to go to
law about it. Jerry didn't tell you that; but it's that makes him talk
kinda bitter, sometimes. He was terrible disappointed about losing the
farm. And when we took what we had left and struck out, he said he
was going as far as he could get and be away from lawyers and law, and
make us a home on land that nobody but the Lord laid any claim to. So
he picked out this place; and then along come that Spaniard and a lot
of fellows with him and said we hadn't no right here.
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