The whole class, I guess—’cept the Davis boy. It’ll be a nice day to picnic, won’t it? (_He rises and goes away from her and looks out toward the Lake. Softly, then more and more ecstatic, like a prayer_—) I alwys liked the Big Lake. I’ve come here many’s the time with Paw, when we’d went out to git some cattle. Miles and miles through the bilin’ heat, tongue clawin’ at yer mouth—a-eatin’ dust, mebbe we’d go. Dust bilin’ up and blindin’ you—a-gettin’ in yer mouth and eyes till you thought you couldn’t stand it. An’ then the dark woods here—briars a-clawin’ at yer legs and hands, rattlers a-hidin’ under the leaves mebbe, logs t’ make yer horses jump, and branches ye’d have t’ dodge. Then the lake—flowin’ wide out—plum over almost out o’ sight—a-settin’ thar in the sun like sump’n you never hoped t’ see! I’d alwys want t’ git off my horse and go down to the edge of it—and tech it—and look at it—a long time. But Paw ud alwys say, “Set thar a-gawkin’, you kid. We got to git back to the sawmill ’fore 2 o’clock,” or he’d say, “’Tother end o’ the Lake is dried up purty good, son. We could cross over thar ’stid o’ goin’ round by the section line.” (_After a moment._) I ain’t never seen it like this, though. It’s purtier’n I ever seen it. And we c’n look at it ’s long’s we want to. And we c’n go out on it—in a boat—if they is a boat— BETTY (_timidly_) Why don’t you come over here and set down by me? LLOYD Why don’t you come over here and look at the lake? BETTY I c’n see it good—from here. LLOYD Come on over the big log, and you c’n see it better. BETTY No. I like it here better. LLOYD (_puzzled_) You’re funny. Set over thar then. I like you thar jist as well. You look purty good no matter whur you’re a-settin’. You _set_ purty good. I like you settin’ thar with the vine leaves and the tree leaves behind you. You’ve got purtier and purtier, Betty. BETTY Have I? You’re sweet to say it. LLOYD Why wouldn’t I say it? BETTY No reason not to. I like to hear it. LLOYD Words git in the way some. I cain’t think t’ say much. BETTY They’s no need t’ say much— LLOYD They _is_ need to. Seems t’ me yore comin’ to Verdigree wuz like you’d come from some place besides down the river. It made me think of the Bible—sump’n about the angel that come down to roll away the stone— BETTY You wuzn’t dead. LLOYD I uz asleep, I wuz. I uz young-asleep. I uz boy-asleep. I’m awake now. I’m a man. I’ve come to life. BETTY You’d think I uz an angel—sproutin’ wings! LLOYD You’re better’n an angel— BETTY I ain’t! LLOYD You air, too, to me. Better’n an angel! I’ll put this flower in yer hair— BETTY No. LLOYD ’S like a star. BETTY No, no. Whur’d you git it at? LLOYD (_puzzled_) Why, _here_. BETTY (_strangely_) Under the leaves. It growed up through the dead leaves. I don’t like it— LLOYD Why, Betty! BETTY I cain’t stand them kind of flowers. LLOYD ’S jist a flower. Growin’ in the woods. BETTY In the dark woods. Lloyd—