After they had left the post-office, by mutual direction their footsteps
turned from the more crowded thoroughfares, and they walked down a quiet
and deserted street where the stones were covered with moss, and where
solemn gnarled old trees lined the way on either side and met above their
heads, the fresh green leaves murmuring softly together like living things.
They reached the end of the old street, and were almost in the country. A
wide-spreading chestnut-tree stood before them, around whose giant bole a
rustic seat had been built. They walked towards it in silence and sat down
side by side.
They were entirely alone. A gay young red-bird, his head knowingly cocked
on one side, perched in the branches just above them. A belated bumblebee,
already heavy laden, hung over a cluster of wild flowers at their feet. A
long-legged garrulous grasshopper, undismayed by their presence, uttered
his clarion notes on the seat beside them.
The inquisitive young red-bird looking down could only see a soft black hat
and a white straw hat with flowers about its broad brim. He heard the black
hat wondering if any one ever thought of him, to which the straw hat
replied softly that it was sure some one did think of him very often.
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