I shall vanish
instantly, if you waste another moment's time because I am here."
"But I want to talk," he protested. "I have been working hard since noon."
"Of course you have," she retorted. "But presently the light will change
again, and you won't be able to do any more to-day; so you must keep busy
while you can."
"And you won't vanish--if I go on with my work?" he asked doubtfully. She
was smiling at him with such a mischievous air, that he feared, if he
turned away, she would disappear.
She laughed aloud; "Not if you work," she said. "But if you stop--I'm
gone."
As she spoke, she went toward his easel, and, resting her fly rod
carefully against the trunk of a near-by alder, slipped the creel from her
shoulder, placing the basket on the ground with her hat. Then, while the
painter watched her, she stood silently looking at the picture. Presently,
she faced him, and, with an impulsive stamp of her foot, said, "Why don't
you work? How can you waste your time and this light, looking at me? I
shall go, if you don't come back to your picture, this minute."
With a laugh, he obeyed.
For a moment, she watched him; then turned away; and he heard her moving
about, down by the tiny stream, where it disappeared under the willows.
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