"Ain't yeh never comin'?" called Mandy from the gloom far in front.
"What's all the rush?" replied Tim, impatiently, who loved nothing
better than a quiet walk with Cameron through the woods.
"Rush? We'll be late, and I hate walkin' up before the hull crowd. Come
on!" cried his sister in impatient tone.
"All right, Mandy, we're nearly through the woods. I begin to see
the clearing yonder," said Cameron, pointing to where the light was
beginning to show through the tree tops before them.
But they were late enough, and Mandy was glad of the cover of the
opening hymn to allow her to find her way to a group of her girl
friends, the males of the party taking shelter with a neighbouring group
of their own sex near by.
Upon the sloping sides of the grassy hills and under the beech and
maple trees, the vanguard of the retreating woods, sat the congregation,
facing the preacher, who stood on the grassy level below. Behind them
was the solid wall of thick woods, over them time spreading boughs, and
far above the trees the blue summer sky, all the bluer for the little
white clouds that sailed serene like ships upon a sea. At their feet lay
the open country, checkered by the snake fences into fields of yellow,
green, and brown, and rolling away to meet the woods at the horizon.
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