Run home, there's a good little boy." "Why do you laugh at me ?" he asked.
"Because I am laughing at myself," she answered, "and you should have your share." Then very nearly he kissed her, only he was in such a hurry, also the willow log, a large one, was between them; possibly she had arranged that this should be so.

So he could only press her hand and depart, muttering something indistinguishable.

She watched him vanish, after which she sat down again on the log and really did laugh.

Still, it was a queer kind of merriment, for by degrees it turned into little sobs and tears.
"You little fool, what has happened to you ?" she asked herself.

"Are you--are you--and if so, is he--?
Oh! nonsense, and yet, something has happened, for I never felt like this before.