"Good-by; an' when I return I hope to bear the rest o' thy tale,"
said Darrel, as they parted.
"Only God is wise enough to finish it," said the young man.
"'Well, God help us; 'tis a world to see,'" Darrel quoted, waving
his hand. "If thy heart oppress thee, steer for the Blessed Isles."
XXI
Robin's Inn
A big maple sheltered the house of the widow Vaughn. After the
noon hour of a summer day its tide of shadow began flowing fathoms
deep over house and garden to the near field, where finally it
joined the great flood of night. The maple was indeed a robin's
inn at some crossing of the invisible roads of the air. Its green
dome towered high above and fell to the gable end of the little
house. Its deep and leafy thatch hid every timber of its frame
save the rough column. Its trunk was the main beam, each limb a
corridor, each tier of limbs a floor, and branch rose above branch
like steps in a stairway. Up and down the high dome of the maple
were a thousand balconies overlooking the meadow.
From its highest tier of a summer morning the notes of the bobolink
came rushing off his lyre, and farther down the golden robin
sounded his piccolo. But, chiefly, it was the home and refuge of
the familiar red-breasted robin.
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