“Yes, I think I see what you mean,” said Lewis. “’Way down, just below it, you can see the tip of a church steeple.”

“So you can,” said Leighton.  “Well, that gleam of white is Aunt Jed’s.  Make for it.  That’s where you’ll find Natalie.”

“Is it?” said Lewis, straightening, and with a flush of excitement in his cheeks.  “Aren’t you coming, too?”

“No,” said Leighton; “not to-day.  We won’t expect you back before supper.  Tell Mrs. Leighton that I’ll be over soon to see her and thank her.”

Lewis started off with an eager stride, only to learn that Aunt Jed’s was farther away than it looked.  He found a road and followed it through the valley and up the first ridge, then seeing that the road meandered off to the right into a village, he struck off across the fields straight for the distant house.

He had passed through the moist bottoms and come upon a tract of rock-strewn pasture land when he saw before him the figure of a girl.  Her back was to him.  A great, rough straw hat hid her head.  She wore a white blouse and a close-fitting blue skirt.  She was tall and supple, but she walked slowly, with her eyes on the ground.  In one hand she carried a little tin pail.

Lewis came up behind her.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

The girl started and turned.  Lewis stepped forward.  They stood and stared at each other.  The little tin pail slipped from the girl’s hand.

“Strawberries,” she stammered.  “I was looking for strawberries.”  Then she added so low that he scarcely heard her, “Lew?”

“Nat!” cried Lewis.  “It is Nat!”

Natalie swayed toward him.  He caught her by the arms.  She looked at him and tried to smile, but instead she crumpled into a heap on a rock and cried—­cried as though her heart would break.

Lewis sat down beside her and put one arm around her.

“Why, Nat, aren’t you glad to see me?  Nat, don’t cry!  Aren’t you glad I’ve come?”

Natalie nodded her head hard, but did not try to speak.  Not till she had quite finished crying did she look up.  Then her tear-stained face broke into a radiant smile.

“That’s—­that’s why I’m crying,” she gasped; “because I’m so glad.”

So there they sat together and talked about what?  About strawberries.  Lewis said that he had walked miles across the fields, and seen heaps of blossoms but no berries.  He didn’t think the wild ones had berries.  Which, Natalie said, was nonsense.  Of course they had berries, only it was too early.  She had found three that were pinkish.  She pointed to them where they had rolled from the little tin pail.  Lewis picked one up and examined it.

“You’re right,” he said gravely, “it’s a strawberry.”

Then silence fell upon them—­a long silence, and at the end Lewis said: 

“Nat, do you remember at Nadir the guavas—­when, you’d come out to where I was with the goats?”