Quarters with her were fat and logy or skinny and sharp. Thank God, she had kept supple and young. The years had been easy on the others and hard on her, but toil and carrying heavy loads had hardened her sinews and lengthened her wind and kept her body lean and slim. She could swing an ax and cut the toughest wood for hours at a time without a taint of weariness. She could jerk a hoe day after day through the hottest sunshine. She could pick cotton with the best and come home at night as cheerful and fresh as when she waked at dawn. Thank God!
Instead of going straight into the Big Road, she chose to leave that at one side for a narrow path which made a short-cut through the neighboring woods, where everything was silent and still. Hardly a leaf or blade of grass trembled as they reached up to catch the light, and forest shadows made a dark veil across the damp earth.
Mary walked on, fast at first, then more slowly, for she had two heavy loads to carry this morning, her unborn child, and her heart full of fear that something had gone wrong with Seraphine. Poor little girl, How little she knew now of life, of people, of her own self for that matter. The tall old trees let no sunshine fall on the path, and only a narrow strip of sky showed overhead. The earth smelled moldy under the trees.
The road gave a narrow white glimpse of the
