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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

June shook her head helplessly.
"You aren't homesick, are you?"
"No." The answer came very faintly.
"Don't you like my sister?" The head bowed an emphatic "Yes--yes."
"Then what is the matter?"
"Oh," she said despairingly, between her sobs, "she--won't--like--
me. I never--can--be--like HER."
Hale smiled, but her grief was so sincere that he leaned over her
and with a tender hand soothed her into quiet. Then he went to
Helen again and he found her overhauling dresses.
"I brought along several things of different sizes and I am going
to try at any rate. Oh," she added hastily, "only of course until
she can get some clothes of her own."
"Sure," said Hale, "but--" His sister waved one hand and again
Hale kept still.
June had bathed her eyes and was lying down when Helen entered,
and she made not the slightest objection to anything the latter
proposed. Straightway she fell under as complete subjection to her
as she had done to Hale. Without a moment's hesitation she drew
off her rudely fashioned dress and stood before Helen with the
utmost simplicity--her beautiful arms and throat bare and her hair
falling about them with the rich gold of a cloud at an autumn
sunset.


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