In short, from hopeful girl, Margaret Bade was,
sensibly enough, turned practical woman; and when, on clear afternoons,
with his work still to do, Aaron would take his flute down into the
fields, she did his chores, as well as her own, with the wise remark
that after all, they had to be done.
Nevertheless, when the dishes were washed--when the shadows of evening
crept in past the lamp, no longer able to exclude them, she began to
feel lonely and sad. And as the notes of Aaron's flute mingled with
the night sounds, the chirp of crickets, the hum of insects, she felt,
rather than thought, "Life is so much spilt milk. And all that comes
of fancies, is Aaron's flute, playing down there in the pasture."
It was to this family that Mr. Jeminy came in the chilly dawn, on his
way, apparently, to the ends of the earth, and, after breakfast, fell
asleep in the hayloft, leaving them both gaping with pleasure and
curiosity. For he came, Aaron had to admit, like a tramp; but spoke,
Margaret thought, like the Gospels.
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