Zora caught her breath sharply, but said nothing. The next day Miss Smith said to her when she came in:
“I’m busy now, dear, but you go up to your little room and read and I’ll call.”
Zora quietly obeyed. An hour later Miss Smith looked in, then she closed the door lightly and left. Another hour flew by before Zora hurried down.
“I was reading, and I forgot,” she said.
“It’s all right,” returned Miss Smith. “I didn’t need you. And any day, after you get all your lessons, I think Miss Taylor will excuse you and let you go to your room and read.” Miss Taylor, it transpired, was more than glad.
Day after day Bles and Zora visited the field; but ever the ground lay an unrelieved black beneath the bright sun, and they would go reluctantly home again, today there was much work to be done, and Zora labored steadily and eagerly, never pausing, and gaining in deftness and care.
In the afternoon Bles went to town with the school wagon. A light shower flew up from the south, lingered a while and fled, leaving a fragrance in the air.
For a moment Zora paused, and her nostrils quivered; then without a word she slipped downstairs, glided into the swamp, and sped away to the island.
She swung across the tree and a low, delighted cry bubbled on her lips. All the rich, black ground was sprinkled with tender green. She bent above the verdant tenderness and kissed it; then she rushed back, bursting into the room.
‚Äú It‚Äôs come! It‚Äôs come!‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe Silver Fleece! ‚Äù