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"You are very kind, sir, to take an interest in my affairs," answered Mr Lawrence with slight sarcasm. He started as though he was confronted by something totally different from the lady he expected to see. In truth Mr Lawrence had never seen Lucy Acton with her hair down. Always when they met her hair had been dressed in the prevailing mode, with a little fringing or shadowing of wisps on her fair brow and curls on the beautiful outlines of her shoulders. Whether her hair had become disengaged from its fastenings in the night, or whether the deck mattress had done half and she with her fingers had let fall the rest, matters not; she was before him, clothed all about her back and breast with her abundance of soft dark hair. Maurice was climbing a tall poplar standing on the bank of the creek. "I say, Billy," he cried excitedly. "There she is, jest 'round the bend. They've beached her in that piece of woods. It's Joe LaRose an' Art Shipley that took her, I'll bet a cookie. They're always goin' 'cross there to hunt fer turtle's eggs.".
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"You may succeed," she replied, "but I'm afraid you would have to know Billy a long time to know him well." "Ner me, either. I guess we'll have to give up the hunt fer t'night, Maurice. Anyways, we don't know jest how to work ol' Harry's fairy arrer." "You black, thievin' passel of impudence, you!" she was saying. "If I had a stick long enough to reach you, you'd never dirty any more of my new-washed clothes." "The last we spoke," answered the man,[Pg 354] "was the day before yesterday. And we took out of her by request of her master, a young female who was said to have gone mad, but for my part I never met with anybody saner. She's an additional mouth, and a cask of beef would be grateful.".
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