Through his office window, a few minutes later, Hale saw June pass
swiftly into the house. In a few minutes she came swiftly out
again and went back swiftly toward the school-house. He was so
worried by the tense look in her face that he could work no more,
and in a few minutes he threw his papers down and followed her.
When he turned the corner, Bob was coming down the street with his
cap on the back of his head and swinging his books by a strap, and
the boy looked a little conscious when he saw Hale coming.
"Have you seen June?" Hale asked.
"No, sir," said Bob, immensely relieved.
"Did she come up this way?"
"I don't know, but--" Bob turned and pointed to the green dome of
a big beech.
"I think you'll find her at the foot of that tree," he said.
"That's where her play-house is and that's where she goes when
she's--that's where she usually goes."
"Oh, yes," said Hale--"her play-house. Thank you."
"Not at all, sir."
Hale went on, turned from the path and climbed noiselessly. When
he caught sight of the beech he stopped still. June stood against
it like a wood-nymph just emerged from its sun-dappled trunk--
stood stretched to her full height, her hands behind her, her hair
tossed, her throat tense under the dangling little cross, her face
uplifted.
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