"
He relaxed his clasp, and setting a heavy hand on each shoulder, he
looked straight into her eyes.
"Ye're prime, Sarah! Juist prime!" he said.
Sarah Duncan stood alone in the middle of her two-roomed log cabin and
lifted a bony, clawlike pair of hands, reddened by frequent immersion
in hot water, cracked and chafed by exposure to cold, black-lined by
constant battle with swamp-loam, calloused with burns, and stared at
them wonderingly.
"Pretty-lookin' things ye are!" she whispered. "But ye hae juist been
kissed. And by such a man! Fine as God ever made at His verra best.
Duncan wouldna trade wi' a king! Na! Nor I wadna trade with a queen wi'
a palace, an' velvet gowns, an' diamonds big as hazelnuts, an' a hundred
visitors a day into the bargain. Ye've been that honored I'm blest if
I can bear to souse ye in dish-water. Still, that kiss winna come off!
Naething can take it from me, for it's mine till I dee. Lord, if I amna
proud! Kisses on these old claws! Weel, I be drawed on!"
CHAPTER III
Wherein a Feather Falls and a Soul Is Born
So Freckles fared through the bitter winter.
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