small boy. He was at first almost too ashamed to speak.
A kind-looking, motherly woman of perhaps fifty was bending over him. She was simply gowned in a white dress. She wore no hat. Upon her arm was a market basket and in her hand was a trowel. The basket was partly filled with wild flowers and ferns.
"Oh, no ma'am, I am not hurt, that is, not much. I mean I am not injured. I am just disappointed. I had to fight out something. Something that troubled me. So I came here to this beautiful woods. Am I trespassing? Is it your woods, ma'am?"
"Yes, it is my woods, but you are not trespassing. I am glad if it looks good to you. I often come here to rest myself." She laid her hands gently upon Halsey's shoulder.
"I had a boy once," she said tenderly, "he would have been about your age if he had lived. I lost him when he was ten."
"I am sorry you lost your boy," replied
