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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

If she did not mind, why should he? Anyway,
if they really were the Angel's friends, probably they were better
accustomed to her ways than he.
Her face and bared neck and arms were like the wild rose bloom. Her
soft frock of white tulle lifted and stirred around her with the gentle
evening air. The beautiful golden hair, that crept around her temples
and ears as if it loved to cling there, was caught back and bound with
broad blue satin ribbon. There was a sash of blue at her waist, and
knots of it catching up her draperies.
"Must I go after the Bird Woman?" she pleaded.
"Indade, you must," answered Freckles firmly.
The Angel went away, but returned to say that the Bird Woman was telling
a story to those inside and she could not come for a short time.
"You won't come in?" she pleaded.
"I must not," said Freckles. "I am not dressed to be among your friends,
and I might be forgetting meself and stay too long."
"Then," said the Angel, "we mustn't go through the house, because it
would disturb the story; but I want you to come the outside way to the
conservatory and have some of my birthday lunch and some cake to take to
Mrs.


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