Connie perked her head saucily, then half smiled to show her small milk-white teeth; apparently she was pleased with the reflection she saw in the glass. From the clothes-line she took a flour sack that had been split open and washed to be used for drying dishes. Draping this from her waist-line, she pinned it securely. Assuming a haughty pose, she walked past the mirror with a sinuous, undulating movement. The little artist was so perfect in her mimicry that Donald’s lips involuntarily formed the word “Janet.” Twice she passed before the tiny mirror with a regal step, her head turning with its characteristic bird-like motion to catch the reflection.
Gradually the queenly pose slipped from her. She stopped abruptly, throwing out her arms with a forlorn gesture. Her golden head fell forward. Two big tears welled from her blue eyes and ran down the small freckled nose. Her small hands plucked convulsively at her faded blue overalls. A sob like a stab [of] pain shook her slender body. One arm came up slowly to cover her tear-wet face as she threw herself face forward on the grass. Her slender shoulders were shaking with such an agony of weeping that Donald’s throat felt constricted and his eyes grew suddenly dim.
Her spotted cayuse, grazing nearby, raised his head at the sound of Connie’s hysterical sobbing and moved to the small figure of his mistress. With ears bent forward and a look of bewilderment in his soft eyes, he nuzzled her neck with his velvety nose. The sobbing continued, but her brown hand came up to pat his head lovingly.
Donald tiptoed softly back to the trail. He stood for some time with his hand on the saddle, his head bowed in deep thought. “Poor little kid,” he said gently, then whistling a lively tune, he slowly retraced his steps to the cabin. He entered the clearing just in time to see Connie as she disappeared in the timber across the field. He did not want her to know that he was aware of her flight, so he knocked loudly on the door and shouted her name. A raven croaked derisively from the top of a dead tree. The pony raised his head to eye him silently. Connie’s pet deer came around the corner of the barn, a look of gentle questioning in her beautiful big eyes.