A girlish head, "running over with curls," lifted itself from the long orchard grass, and listened--the slender, arched black brows met over the bright, dark eyes in a vexed frown. The woman who was calling Jaquelina in that loud, shrill, uncultivated voice stood in the doorway of a low, unpainted farm-house, prettily situated on the gentle slope of a green hill at whose foot a silvery little brook ran singing past.…
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