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Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith, 1856-1923

"Homespun Tales"

I'd like to think so, but I can't. It's a big place, and it belongs to
God."


IX
Love Manifold

The woods on the shores of Massabesic Pond were stretches of tapestry, where
every shade of green and gold, olive and brown, orange and scarlet, melted the
one into the other. The somber pines made a deep-toned background; patches of
sumach gave their flaming crimson; the goldenrod grew rank and tall in
glorious profusion, and the maples outside the Office Building were balls of
brilliant carmine. The air was like crystal, and the landscape might have been
bathed in liquid amber, it was so saturated with October yellow.
Susanna caught her breath as she threw her chamber window wider open in the
early morning; for the greater part of the picture had been painted during the
frosty night.
"Throw your little cape round your shoulders and come quickly, Sue!" she
exclaimed.
The child ran to her side. "Oh, what a goldy, goldy morning!" she cried.
One crimson leaf with a long heavy stem that acted as a sort of rudder, came
down to the windowsill with a sidelong scooping flight, while two or three
gayly painted ones, parted from the tree by the same breeze, floated airily
along as if borne on unseen wings, finally alighting on Sue's head and
shoulders like tropical birds.


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