He could see only her profile , but that was perfect , and the colouring of the oval cheek and the beautiful curve of the chin were something to adore . Her hair , ruffled into lovable little ringlets by the morning wind , was coiled in glistening chestnut masses high on her bare head , and her arms , bare to the elbow , were as white as marble . Presently she began to sing again , and this time Murray joined in . She half rose from her milking stool and cast a startled glance at the maples . Then she dropped back again and began to milk determinedly , but Murray could have sworn that he saw a demure smile hovering about her lips . That , and the revelation of her full face , decided him . He sprang over the fence and sauntered across the intervening space of lush clover blossoms . `` Good morning , '' he said coolly . He had forgotten her other name , and it did not matter ; at five o'clock in the morning people who met in dewy clover fields might disregard the conventionalities . `` Is n't it rather a large contract for you to be milking seven cows all alone ? May I help you ? '' Mollie looked up at him over her shoulder . She had glorious grey eyes . Her face was serene and undisturbed . `` Can you milk ? '' she asked . `` Unlikely as it may seem , I can , '' said Murray . `` I have never confessed it to Mrs. Emory , because I was afraid she would inveigle me into milking her fourteen cows . But I do n't mind helping you . I learned to milk when I was a shaver on my vacations at a grandfatherly farm .
May I have XXXXX extra pail ? ''
about across as by from in of on over that