`` Folks as has fourteen cows to milk has to rise betimes , '' she answered with proud humility . `` Laws , I do n't complain -- I 've lots of help with the milking . How Mrs. Palmer manages , I really can not comperhend -- or rather , how she has managed . I suppose she 'll be all right now since her niece came last night . I saw her posting to the pond pasture not ten minutes ago . She 'll have to milk all them seven cows herself . But dear life and heart ! Here I be palavering away and not a bite of breakfast ready for you ! '' `` I do n't want any breakfast until the regular time for it , '' assured Murray . `` I 'm going down to the pond to see the sun rise . '' `` Now do n't you go and get caught in the ma ` sh , '' anxiously called Mrs. Emory , as she never failed to do when she saw him starting for the pond . Nobody ever had got caught in the marsh , but Mrs. Emory lived in a chronic state of fear lest someone should . `` And if you once got stuck in that black mud you 'd be sucked right down and never seen or heard tell of again till the day of judgment , like Adam Palmer 's cow , '' she was wont to warn her boarders . Murray sought his favourite spot for pond dreaming -- a bloomy corner of the pasture that ran down into the blue water , with a dump of leafy maples on the left . He was very glad he had risen early . A miracle was being worked before his very eyes . The world was in a flush and tremor of maiden loveliness , instinct with all the marvellous fleeting charm of girlhood and spring and young morning . Overhead the sky was a vast high-sprung arch of unstained crystal . Down over the sand dunes , where the pond ran out into the sea , was a great arc of primrose smitten through with auroral crimsonings . Beneath it the pond waters shimmered with a hundred fairy hues , but just before him they were clear as a flawless mirror .
The fields around him glistened with dews , and a little wandering wind , blowing lightly from some bourne XXXXX the hills , strayed down over the slopes , bringing with it an unimaginable odour and freshness , and fluttered over the pond , leaving a little path of dancing silver ripples across the mirror-glory of the water .
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