The Choir Invisible

When he had gone about two miles, keeping his face steadily toward the sun,

he came upon evidences of a clearing: burnt and fallen timber; a field of

sprouting maize; another of young wheat; a peach orchard flushing all the

green around with its clouds of pink; beyond this a garden of vegetables;

and yet farther on, a log house.

He was hurrying on toward the house; but as he passed the garden he saw

standing in one corner, with a rake in her hand, a beautifully formed woman

in homespun, and near by a negro lad dropping garden-seed. His eyes lighted

up with pleasure; and changing his course at once, he approached and leaned

on the picket fence.

"How do you do, Mrs. Falconer?"

She turned with a cry, dropping her rake and pushing her sun-bonnet back

from her eyes.

"How unkind to frighten me!" she said, laughing as she recognized him; and

then she came over to the fence and gave him her hand--beautiful, but

hardened by work. A faint colour had spread over her face.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he replied, smiling at her fondly. "But I

had rapped on the fence twice. I suppose you took me for a flicker. Or you

were too busy with your gardening to hear me. Or, may be you were too deep

in your own thoughts."

"How do you happen to be out of school so early?" she asked, avoiding the

subject.

"I was through with the lessons."

"You must have hurried."

"I did."

"And is that the way you treat people's children?"

"That's the way I treated them to-day."

"And then you came straight out here?"

"As straight and fast as my legs could carry me--with a good many

interruptions."

She searched his face eagerly for a moment. Then her eyes fell and she

turned back to the seed-planting. He stood leaning over the fence with his

hat in his hand, glancing impatiently at the house.

"How can you respect yourself, to stand there idling and see me hard at

work?" she said at length, without looking, at him.

"But you do the work so well--better than I could! Besides, you are obeying

a Divine law. I have no right to keep you from doing the will of God. I

observe you as one of the daughters of Eve--under the curse of toil."

"There's no Divine command that I should plant beans. But it is my command

that Amy shall. And this is Amy's work. Aren't you willing to work for her?"

she asked, slowly raising her eyes to his face.