They worked like gleaners in the ancient fields, freighting themselves with flowers, and what the moonlight had begun that night when they sat under the cottonwood at Duncan's ranch, the gold of this autumn evening brought to completion and welded so fast into his heart that Texas knew it never could come away. He must prepare the ways of life thenceforward for two; the road leading away from Cottonwood seemed so remote that his feet never would find it any more.
There was a great deal to be said, a good many sighs to be spent on both sides, about the business of gathering two armfuls of goldenrod, it seemed. Perhaps hearts out of which sentiment had dried, such as florists' hearts, would not have found it a long task nor a particular one in that field of abundant bloom, but it was nearing sundown when Sallie and Hartwell turned their faces again toward the town. The schoolhouse was on the way to Sallie's home, and there they were to leave the flowers. Early in the morning she would go and arrange them along the bleak walls of her room.
Never before in his life had Texas Hartwell gone carrying a sheaf of yellow flowers beside a lady. It was a rare day, indeed, an occasion of great pride. Children came smiling to greet their teacher, little girls skipped beside her, turning up
