Time went on and she had heard nothing of her small venture, but one Saturday morning, having gone to the school-house for some book she needed, she stopped at the postoffice for the mail, forestalling the postman who could deliver it later.
On the threshold she met Berk Matthews. "Why, hallo, Linda," he exclaimed. "Haven't seen you for a month of Sundays."
"And whose fault is that, I'd like to know," she answered.
"Whose fault? Why, the ducks, of course. I didn't have any luck and am going out again. By the way when did you turn poet?"
Linda paled, flushed, looked down nervously, shuffled the letters and papers she held. "What do you mean?" she asked at last.
"There's only one Verlinda Talbot, isn't there? Unless someone has borrowed your very pretty and unusual name. Look at this." He thrust his hand into his coat pocket and drew forth a paper, opened the sheet and pointed out the following:
Up from the hill-slope and over the ridge An army is coming of marching pines. The cloud-shadows lurking, lie low on the bridge Wrought out by the moonbeams in delicate lines.
They march from the meadow land over the snow With bayonets pointed, a solid phalanx, Save where, on their outlying edges, they show A few timid stragglers who've broken the ranks.
And down in the field, set in orderly rows Are wigwams, one sees by the light of the moon. Hark! Hark! Does a war-whoop discover the foes? From out of the marsh comes the laugh of a loon.
"Here, let me take your things," said the young man gently as he perceived by her shaking hands and changing color that she was agitated. He watched her read the lines through and as she raised sweet questioning eyes, he bit his lip and drew in his breath quickly and sharply. "I like it, Linda," he said as she folded the paper and handed it back to him. "How did you manage to do it? I am as proud as can be of you."
"Are you really, Berk? That is very nice of you. To think you saw it before I did. Why I didn't even know they were going to print it."
"You didn't? Then I'm the discoverer. I'm proud of that, too. Very likely you will find a copy of the paper in your mail. Are they paying you well for it?"
"Oh, no, I don't think they pay at all. I don't expect that. I am paid sufficiently by seeing it in print this time. Perhaps--some day--if I keep on--"