Gelett Burgess

“ It's altogether too foolish."
"You promised." He reached out his hand.
"Did I? Well, take it then." She handed it to him and walked away through the trees toward the barn, while he sat down beneath the pear-tree to examine her gift. He smiled, as he turned the pages of the little book, at her conscientious records of fact and fancy. Upon the fly-leaf was written in a girlish hand the name Jane Gladden, and the dates were those of eighteen years ago. He read for a while in silence, tasting her experiences day by day, until at last he turned a leaf to find a more introspective chronicle. ”

“ With her assistance he gravely measured off the distance, then went five feet toward the corner of the barn where a single sprig of wild turnip grew. Here he removed his coat and took up the spade.
"I'm almost frightened," she said, putting her hand for an instant upon his; "it does seem so terribly real—almost as if we were digging up your dead childhood."
"Well, you can bring it to life if anybody can," he laughed, sinking his spade in the soil.
She jumped atop the barrel and watched him as the hole grew deeper and the mound of earth beside it grew larger. ”

“ He smiled and rose to lead the way. The barn was dark and cool, odorous with the freshly garnered hay. He helped her up the ladder and over the springy mows to where a rickety set of cross-bars led to the sparsely-floored beams above. ”