* * * * *
The gayety of the Indian Summer dance was now at its height. The mellow
sunlight fell straight down through the arching green branches of the
bordering trees. The earth, still warm with the summer's fires, lifted a
cool face to the soft breeze. The dancers growing tired and hungry about
noon, sat down on the greensward in little groups, while the baskets
were taken from their hiding-places and the simple feast was soon
spread. The black men served it with the coffee which they had heated
over the campfire built at some distance in the forest. The homespun
linen of the table-cloths looked very white on the dark green of the
rich grass. But the single square of fine damask from Ruth's basket was
not whiter than its humble neighbors, and she did not think of her finer
linen or richer food. With Paul Colbert seated on the grass at her right
hand, and David at her left, she took what was given her, knowing only
that she was quite content and perfectly happy. She was indeed so happy
that she was less gay than usual, for the greatest happiness makes least
noise.
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