While Caroline was Growing

Caroline slipped out of the woodshed with Henry D. Thoreau barking under his breath at her heels, and struck across the dusty mountain road into the trail. The advantages of the woodshed were many: it was cool and dark, the stacked wood had a soothing odor and a neat, restful appearance, and one was more or less forgotten there. More important, it lay directly under the long living-room, and sounds carried easily through the primitive plank floor. Up to now the murmur of the company's voices had been a negligible quantity, a background for thought, merely, but suddenly a familiar intonation had risen higher.

"Why, certainly, Caroline can show you -- she knows all the trails. Yes, indeed, she'd be delighted, I'm sure. Oh, any time you prefer. Don't let her dawdle along, though; she's such a strange child -- sometimes it will take her ten minutes to get across the road, and then another time she will be as quick as a flash. I'll see where she is."