ow in a slouch hat； hickory shirt crossed by one suspender； and heavy cowhide boots was his prospective landlord。 He supposed him to be the hired man； and that he would find Mr。 Pollard waiting for him in the little sitting…room with the windows full of geraniums that looked so inviting and picturesque。
〃Marve sez you're lookin' fur me。 Come along。 Glad ter see ye。〃
〃Are you Mr。 Pollard？〃 His surprise not only marked the tones of his voice but the expression of his face。
〃No； jes' Ezry Pollard； that's all。 Hope Mr。 Slade's up and hearty？〃
Mr。 Slade was never so 〃up and hearty〃 as was Oliver that next morning。
Up with the sun he was； and hearty as a young buck out of a bed of mountain…moss。
〃Time to be movin'； ain't it？〃 came Ezra Pollard's voice； shouting up the unpainted staircase； 〃Hank's drawed a bucket out here at the well for ye to wash in。 Needn't worry about no towel。 Samanthy's got one fur ye； but ye kin bring yer comb。〃
At the sound of Ezra's voice Oliver sprang from the coarse straw mattressit had been as eider…down to his stage…jolted bodypushed open the wooden blind and peered out。 The sun was peeping over the edge of the Notch and looking with wide eyes into the saucer…shaped valley in which the cabin stood。 The fogs which at twilight had stolen down to the meadows and had made a night of it； now startled into life by the warm rays of the sun； were gathering up their skirts of shredded mist and tiptoeing back up the hill…side； looking over their shoulders as they fled。 The fresh smell of the new corn watered by the night dew and the scent of pine and balsam from the woods about him； filled the morning air。 Songs of birds were all about； a robin on a fence…post and two larks high in air； singing as they flew。
Below him； bounding from rock to rock； ran the brook； laughing in the sunlight and tossing the spray high in the air in a mad frolic。 Across this swirling line of silver lay a sparse meadow strewn with rock； plotted with squares of last year's cropspotatoes； string…beans； and cabbages； and now combed into straight green lines of early buckwheat and turnips。 Beyond this a ragged pasture； fenced with blackened stumps； from which came the tinkle of cow…bells； and farther on the grim； silent forestmiles and miles of forest seamed by a single road leading to Moose Hillock and the great Stone Face。
Oliver slipped into his clothes； ran down the stairs and out into the fresh morning air。 As he walked toward the well his eyes caught sight of Hank's bucket tilted on one edge of the well…curb； over which hung the big sweep； its lower end loaded with stone。 On the platform stood a wooden bench sloppy with the drippings of the water…soaked pail。 This bench held a tin basin and half a bar of rosin soap。 Beside it was a single post sprouting hickory prongs； on which were hung as many cleanly scoured milk… pails glittering in the sun。 On this post Hank had nailed a three…cornered piece of looking…glassHank had a sweetheart in the village belowa necessity and useful luxury； he told Oliver afterward； 〃in slickin' yerself up fer meals。〃
Once out in the sunshine Oliver； with the instinct of the painter suddenly roused； looked about him。 He found that the cabin which had delighted him so in the glow of the afternoon； was even more enchanting in the light of the morning。 To the plain； every…day； practical man it was but a long box with a door in the middle of each side； front and backone opening into a sitting…room； which again opened into a bedroom in which Ezra and his wife slept； with the windows choked with geraniums； their red cheeks pressed against the small panes； and the other opening into a kitchen； connecting with a pantry and a long； rambling woodshed。 To our young Raphael the simple cabin； from its homely sagging door to its broken…backed roof； covered with rotting shingles； was nothing less than an enchanted palace。
He remembered the shingles。 He had reached up in the night and touched them with his hands。 He remembered； too； the fragrance they gave outa hot； dry； spicy smell。 He remembered also the dried apples spread out on a board beside his bed； and the broken spinning…wheel； and the wasp's nest。 He was sure； too； there were many other fascinating relics stored away in this old attic。 But for the sputtering tallow…candle； which the night before was nearly burnt out； he would have examined everything else about him before he went to sleep。
Then his eye fell on the woodshed and the huge pile of chips that Hank's axe had made in supplying Samanthy's stove； and the rickety； clay…plastered buggy and buckboard that had never known water since the day of their birth。 And the two muskrat skins nailed to the outside plankingspoils of the mill…dam； a mile below。
Yes； he could paint here！
With a thrill of delight surging through him he rolled up his sleeves； tilted the bucket； filled the basin with ice…cold water which Hank had drawn for him； a courtesy only shown a stranger guest； and plunging in his hands and face； dashed the water over his head。 Samanthy； meanwhile； in sunbonnet and straight…up…and…down calico dress； had come out with the towelhalf a salt…sack； washed and rewashed to phenomenal softness （an ideal towel is a salt…sack to those who know）。 Then came the rubbing until his flesh was aglow； and the parting of the wet hair with the help of Hank's glass； and with a toss of a stray lock back from his forehead Oliver went in to breakfast。
It fills me with envy when I think of that first toilet of Oliver's！ I too have had just such morning dips one in Como； with the great cypresses standing black against the glow of an Italian dawn； another in the Lido at sunrise； my gondolier circling about me as I swam； still a third in Stamboul； with the long slants of light piercing the gloom of the stone dome above mebut oh； the smell of the pines and the great sweep of openness； with the mountains looking down and the sun laughing； and the sparkle and joyousness of it all！ Ah； what a lucky dog was this Oliver！
And the days that followed！ Each one a delight each one happier than the one before。 The sun seemed to soak into his blood； the strength of the great hemlocks with their giant uplifted arms seemed to have found its way to his muscles。 He grew stronger； more supple。 He could follow Hank all day now； tramping the brook or scaling the sides of Bald Face； its cheeks scarred with thunderbolts。 And with this joyous life there came a light into his eyes； a tone in his voice； a spring and buoyancy in his step that brought him back to the days when he ran across Kennedy Square and had no care for the day nor thought for the morrow。 Before the week was out he had covered half a dozen canvases with pictures of the house as he saw it that first morning； bathed in the sunshine； of the brook； the sweep of the Notch； and two or three individual trees that he had fallen in love witha ragged birch in particular a tramp of a birch with its toes out of its shoes and its bark coat in tatters。
Before the second week had arrived he had sought the main stage…road and had begun work on a big hemlock that stood sentinel over a turn in the highway。 There was a school…house in the distance and a log…bridge under which the brook plunged。 Here he settled himself for serious work。
He was so engrossed that he had not noticed the school…children who had come up noiselessly from behind and were looking in wonder at his drawings。 Presently a child； who in her eagerness had touched his shoulder； broke the stillness in apology。
〃Say； Mister； there's a lady comes to school every day。 She's a painter too； and drawed Sissy Mathers。〃
Oliver glanced at the speaker and the group about her； wished them all good…morning and squeezed a fresh tube on his palette。 He was too much absorbed in his work for prolonged talk。 The child； emboldened by his cheery greeting； began again； the others crowding closer。 〃She drawed the bridge too； and me and Jennie Waters was sitting on the railshe's awful nice。〃
Oliver looked up； smiling。
〃What's her name？〃
〃I don't know。 Teacher calls her Miss Margaret； but there's more to it。 She comes every year。〃
Oliver bent over his easel； drew out a line brush from the sheaf in his hand； caught up a bit of yellow ochre from his palette and touched up the shadow of the birch。 〃All the women painters must be Margarets；〃 he said to himself。 Then he fell to wondering what had become of her since the school closed。 He had always felt uncomfortable over the night when he had defended 〃the red…headed girl in blue gingham；〃 as she was called by the students。 She had placed him in the wrong by misunderstanding his reasons for serving her。 The students had always looked upon him after that as a quarrelsome person； when he was only trying to protect a woman from insult。 He could not find it in his heart to blame her； but he wished that it had not happened。 As these thoughts filled his mind he became so absorbed that the children's good…by failed to reach his ear。
That day Hank had brought him his luncheon two ears of hot corn in a tin bucket； four doughnuts and an applethe corn in the bottom of the bucket and the doughnuts and apple on top。 He could have walked home for his midday meal； for he was within sound of Samanthy's dinner…horn； but he liked it better this way。
Leaving his easel standing in the road； he had waved his hand in good…by to Hank； picked up the bucket and had crept under the shadow of the bridge to eat his luncheon。 He had finished the corn； thrown the cobs to the fish； and was beginning on the doughnuts； when a step on the planking above him caused him to look up。 A girl in a tam…o'…shanter cap was leaning over the rail。 The sun was behind her； throwing her face into shadowso blinding a light that Oliver only caught the nimbus of fluffy hair that framed the dark spot of her head。 Then came a voice that sent a thrill of surprise through him。
〃Why； Mr。 Horn！ Who would have thought of meeting you here？〃
Oliver was on his feet in an instanta half…eaten doughnut in one hand； his slouch hat in the other。 With this he was shading his eyes against the glare of the sun。 He was still ignorant of who had spoken to him。
〃I beg your pardon； IWHY； Miss Grant