What a riddle was this! And then,
as to the boy Sid, there was the riddle of his coming, and again
that of his character, which latter was, indeed, not easy to solve.
There were few books and no learning in that home. For three
winters Trove tramped a trail to the schoolhouse two miles away,
and had no further schooling until he was a big, blond boy of
fifteen, with red cheeks, and eyes large, blue, and discerning, and
hands hardened to the axe helve. He had then discovered the beauty
of the woods and begun to study the wild folk that live in holes
and thickets. He had a fine face. You would have called him
handsome, but not they among whom he lived. With them handsome was
as handsome did, and the face of a man, if it were cleanly, was
never a proper cause of blame or compliment. But there was that in
his soul, which even now had waked the mother's wonder and set
forth a riddle none were able to solve.
III
The Clock Tinker
The harvesting was over in Brier Dale. It was near dinner-time,
and Allen, Trove, and the two hired men were trying feats in the
dooryard. Trove, then a boy of fifteen, had outdone them all at
the jumping. A stranger came along, riding a big mare with a young
filly at her side.
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