Once a swift
falcon, glancing like a shadowy death, slanted across the upper spaces.
The food was excellent, and daintily served.
"I am proud of my blue and white enamel-ware," Miss Thorne told Bob;
"it's so much better than tin or this ugly gray. And that glass pitcher
I got with coupons from the coffee packages."
"You didn't get these with coupons?" said Bob, lifting one of the
massive silver forks.
"No," she admitted. "That is my one foolishness. All the rest does not
matter, but I can't get along without my silver."
"And a great nuisance it is to those who have to move as we move," put
in Ashley Thorne.
The forest officers took up their broken conversation. Bob found himself
a silent but willing listener. He heard discussion of policies, business
dealings, plans that widened the horizon of what the Forest had meant to
him. In these discussions the girl took an active and intelligent part.
Her opinion seemed to be accepted seriously by both the men, as one who
had knowledge, and indeed, her grasp of details seemed as comprehensive
as that of the men themselves.
Finally Thorne pushed his chair back and began to fill his pipe.
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