There was a return of
listlessness and an indifference to his coming which constantly
increased. She even felt indifferent to her own appearance.
At last, reluctantly, she threw a lace scarf about her head and,
wrapping a long, crimson cloak about her, she left the cottage and took
her way slowly up the hill.
As it was yet far too early for her rendezvous she turned aside from the
main road and followed the narrow mountain trail which led to the cabin
occupied by Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas. The gypsy, in her usual
careless, almost masculine attire, stood in the door of her cabin gazing
out at the mountains in all their mellow and triumphant glory, the
evanescent glory of late autumn. A pick and fishing rod lay across the
door sill and a lean, flea-bitten dog dozed at her feet. Her arms were
akimbo and a pipe was thrust between her teeth.
Her quick ear caught the sound of Pearl's approach and suddenly her
blue, twinkling gaze dropped from the hills to the trail which led to
her door. Seeing who her visitor was, a smile of blended curiosity and
welcome crossed her face. "Howdy, Pearl," she called jovially, "come and
set a spell." She removed the pick and fishing rod and dragged the dog
out of the way. Through the open doorway Mrs. Thomas and Jose might be
seen in the room beyond, bending over a table, evidently deeply
engrossed in the composition of some cakes.
"I can only stay a minute; I got a notion to walk this morning." There
was a cool deviltry in the slanting gaze with which she surveyed the
other woman.
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