Stump electronic books

"
"There is another that can do this from Verdi's _Traviata_." Leslie
whistled the notes. "We may hear him also."
Again they waited. Leslie realized that Mrs. Minturn was not listening,
and would have to be recalled if the bird sang. Leslie sat silent. The
same bird sang, and others, but to the girl had come the intuition that
Mrs. Minturn was having her hour in the garden, so wisely she remained
silent. After an interminable time she arose, making her way forward as
far as she could penetrate and still see the figure of the woman, then
hunting an old stump, climbed upon it and did some thinking herself.
At last she returned to the motionless figure. Mrs. Minturn was leaning
against the tamarack's scraggy trunk, her head resting on a branch,
lightly sleeping. A rivulet staining her cheeks from each eye showed where
slow tears had slipped from under her closed lids. Leslie's heart ached
with pity. She thought she never had seen any one seem so sad, so alone,
so punished for sins of inheritance and rearing.


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