Mr. Dunlop, and Allan, and the hired man,
and even the oxen all stopped, and looked at her as though they
expected to hear that the house was afire, or that the servant girl
had run away with the butcher's boy. But when they found that nothing
was wanted except a ride on a load of hay Mr. Dunlop said, "bless the
child!" and held her up as high as he could reach. Then Allan lifted
her the rest of the way, blushing as he did so. She remembered how
beautifully clean he looked in his white shirt sleeves, and what clear
warm shades of brown there were in the eyes and on the cheeks under
the broad straw hat. She remembered, too, with a little warmth of
feeling--not a _very_ uncomfortable warmth of feeling--how, when the
waggon made a great lurch going over a ditch, she had uttered a little
scream, and laid strenuous hands of appeal upon the white sleeved arm,
and how, when they came to another ditch, a brown palm had held fast
to her trembling hand until the danger was over. Halfway in the barn
door he made the oxen stop, until she had stood on tip toe, and put
her hand among the little swallows in a nest under the eaves.
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