THE SONG OF THE LARK
that amuses me. You must have been doing it ever since you were two feet high."
Thea looked slowly up at her companion's good-humored face. His eyes, sometimes too restless and sympathetic in town, had grown steadier and clearer in the open air. His short curly beard and yellow hair had reddened in the sun and wind. The pleasant vigor of his person was always delightful to her, something to signal to and laugh with in a world of negative people. With Fred she was never becalmed. There was always life in the air, always something coming and going, a rhythm of feeling and action,—stronger than the natural accord of youth. As she looked at him, leaning against the sunny wall, she felt a desire to be frank with him. She was not willfully holding anything back. But, on the other hand, she could not force things that held themselves back. "Yes, it was like that when I was little," she said at last. "I had to be close, as you call it, or go under. But I did n't know I had been like that since you came. I 've had nothing to be close about. I have n't thought about anything but having a good time with you. I 've just drifted."
Fred blew a trail of smoke out into the breeze and looked knowing. "Yes, you drift like a rifle ball, my dear. It 's your—your direction that I like best of all. Most fellows would n't, you know. I 'm unusual."
They both laughed, but Thea frowned questioningly. "Why would n't most fellows? Other fellows have liked me."
"Yes, serious fellows. You told me yourself they were all old, or solemn. But jolly fellows want to be the whole target. They would say you were all brain and muscle; that you have no feeling."
She glanced at him sidewise. "Oh, they would, would they?"
"Of course they would," Fred continued blandly. "Jolly fellows have no imagination. They want to be the animat-
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