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 if you want to. Er you kin come an' sit down in the punt an' not waste my time." He turned away unperturbed. "I got to catch some fish," he said as he moved off down the road.

The Honorable Ben stood in a helpless rage that was nearly pitiful. Pale, his lips trembling, he glared after Matt with a despairing ferocity. He blinked as if his eyes were burning. He set his teeth and swallowed, breathing through dilated nostrils, with a sound that was almost a moan of plaintive fury. But he did not turn and fling his satchel into the buggy and drive away. No. He stood there, watching Matt down the road and slowly gaining control of himself.

When Matt turned off into the woods and disappeared he put down his satchel, wiped his forehead with a shaking hand, pulled his hat down to his eyes, picked up his satchel with a jerk, and followed.

In the fields, on one side of the road, the first strawberry blossoms were as white as wedding wreaths in the grass. On the other side, in the warm wood shade the anemones were May-Daying, like picnicking children in holiday muslins, delighting in the breeze that set them dancing. And where Matt turned off on a narrow path among the maples the spring beauties were already coyly hidden, awaiting some sentimental rendezvous, in coquettish blushes, pink and white.