Looking obliquely at the old gentlewoman, with a curious expression of
mingled defiance, suspicion, and affection on her almost vicious face,
Judy drawled, "Was you-all a-yellin' for me?"
"Yes, Judy; I want you to help me watch the sunset," Auntie Sue
answered, with bright animation; and, turning, she pointed toward the
glowing west,--"Look!"
Judy's sly, evasive eyes did not cease to regard the illumined face of
her old companion as she returned, in her dry, high-pitched monotone: "I
don't reckon as how you-all are a-needin' much help, seein' as how you
are allus a-watchin' hit. A body'd think you-all was mighty nigh old
'nough, by now, ter look at hit alone."
Auntie Sue laughed, a low, musical, chuckling laugh, and, with a hint
of loving impatience in her gentle voice, replied to Judy's observation:
"But, don't you understand, child? It adds so to one's happiness
to share lovely scenes like this. It makes it all so much--so
much--well,--BIGGER, to have some one enjoy it with you. Come, dear!"
And she held out her hand with a gesture of entreaty, and a look
of yearning upon her dear old face that no human being could have
withstood.
Judy, still slyly watchful, went cautiously nearer; and Auntie Sue,
putting an arm lovingly about the crooked shoulders of the mountain
girl, pointed again toward the west as she said, in a low voice that
vibrated with emotion, "Look, Judy! Look!"
The black eyes shifted, and the old-young, expressionless face turned
toward the landscape, which lay before them in all its wondrous beauty
of glowing sky and tinted mountain and gleaming river.
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