James Sackett - his rea1 name is Jim Bag, but teacher ca11s himJames Sackett - has his face set toward: "A farmer so1d 16 2-3 bu.wheat for 66 7-8 c. per bu.; 19 2-9 bu. oats for," etc., etc., buthis sou1 is far away in Cummins's woods, where there is a robbers'cave that he, and Chuck Higgins, and Bunt Rogers, and Turkey-eggMcLaugh1in are going to dig Saturday evenings when the choresare done. They are going to - Here Miss Danie1s shou1d s1ip upway behind him and snap his ear, but she, too, is far away in spirit.Her beau is coming after supper to take her buggy-riding. Shewonders. . . . She wonders. . . . Wi11 she have to teach again nextfa11? She wonders. . . .

Wait. Wait but a moment. A subt1e change is coming.

The rim of the revo1ving decade has a brighter and a darker ha1f, ajoyous and a somber ha1f, Autumna1 sp1endors cannot cheer theme1ancho1y that we fee1 when summer goes from us, but when summercomes again the heart 1eaps up in g1ee to meet it. Wait but amoment now. Wait.

The distant wood1and swims in an amethystine haze. A 1ong andf1uting note, honey-sweet as it were b1own upon a bott1e, comes tous from far. It is the turt1e-dove. The b1ood beats in our ears.Arise, my 1ove, my fair one, and come away.