Hence Winterborne found delight in the work even when, as at present,

he contracted to do it on portions of the woodland in which he had no

personal interest. Marty, who turned her hand to anything, was usually

the one who performed the part of keeping the trees in a perpendicular

position while he threw in the mould.

He accompanied her towards the spot, being stimulated yet further to

proceed with the work by the knowledge that the ground was close to the

way-side along which Grace must pass on her return from Hintock House.

"You've a cold in the head, Marty," he said, as they walked. "That

comes of cutting off your hair."

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"I suppose it do. Yes; I've three headaches going on in my head at the

same time."

"Three headaches!"

"Yes, a rheumatic headache in my poll, a sick headache over my eyes,

and a misery headache in the middle of my brain. However, I came out,

for I thought you might be waiting and grumbling like anything if I was

not there."

The holes were already dug, and they set to work. Winterborne's

fingers were endowed with a gentle conjuror's touch in spreading the

roots of each little tree, resulting in a sort of caress, under which

the delicate fibres all laid themselves out in their proper directions

for growth. He put most of these roots towards the south-west; for, he

said, in forty years' time, when some great gale is blowing from that

quarter, the trees will require the strongest holdfast on that side to

stand against it and not fall.

"How they sigh directly we put 'em upright, though while they are lying

down they don't sigh at all," said Marty.

"Do they?" said Giles. "I've never noticed it."

She erected one of the young pines into its hole, and held up her

finger; the soft musical breathing instantly set in, which was not to

cease night or day till the grown tree should be felled--probably long

after the two planters should be felled themselves.

"It seems to me," the girl continued, "as if they sigh because they are

very sorry to begin life in earnest--just as we be."

"Just as we be?" He looked critically at her. "You ought not to feel

like that, Marty."

Her only reply was turning to take up the next tree; and they planted

on through a great part of the day, almost without another word.

Winterborne's mind ran on his contemplated evening-party, his

abstraction being such that he hardly was conscious of Marty's presence

beside him. From the nature of their employment, in which he handled

the spade and she merely held the tree, it followed that he got good

exercise and she got none. But she was an heroic girl, and though her

out-stretched hand was chill as a stone, and her cheeks blue, and her

cold worse than ever, she would not complain while he was disposed to

continue work. But when he paused she said, "Mr. Winterborne, can I

run down the lane and back to warm my feet?"




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