And so the weeks flew by, Ruby tramping the forest daily between us or
sitting beside me as I painted, noting every stroke of my brush and
asking me innumerable questions as to the choice of colors and the
mixing of the tints. At other times she would ply me with questions,
making me tell her of the things I had seen abroad and of the cities and
peoples she had read of; or she would talk of the books she had studied,
and of others she wanted to read. Jim would listen eagerly, with a
certain pride in his eyes that she knew so much and could talk so well,
and when we were alone he would comment on it:
"Nearly catched ye, didn't she? I see once or twice ye were stumped
clean out o' yer boots on them questions she fired. How her little head
holds it all is what bothers me. But I always knowed how it would be; I
told the old man so ten year ago. Ain't one o' 'em 'raound here kin
touch her."
At night, under the kerosene lamp in the cabin, she would ask me to read
aloud, she looking up into my face and drinking in every word, the
others listening, Jim watching every expression that crossed her face.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231