That Girl of Johnson's — page 41: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

30 THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S. CHAPTER VII. OVER THE MOUNTAIN, Dolores watched the woman’s tall, gaunt figure go down the worn path, her purple print dress brushing the scant grass with an indignant sweep, the cape of her sunbonnet limp and flapping over her shouiders. When she disap- peared from view behind the shrubbery of the road-side Dolores put away the dish of berries and put on her gray sunbonnet to go out. | Should her father return from the tavern and not find her there it would make no difference. Whatever he should wish to eat he could find in the pantry; about her he would not think. It was early afternoon; the sun was high and warm, the haze hung around the peaks away up yonder; down in the valley a long shadow stretched out across the meadows where the cows were straying, their bells tinkling faint and far. The rocky road, like a yellow thread, wound in and out among the scrubby bushes and tall pines that mur- mured in the breeze. To the ears of the girl they kept up their monotonous sobbing about her father as though they were living things. She was listless no longer; she walked as one who had a purpose, as one who had far to go. Her slender, lithe figure was erect, although she walked slowly, being unused to walking except about her household duties, she moved gracefully and without faltering. Her eyes looked straight before her, her lips were set in a straight, stern line. She met no one on her way: there was little travel on the mountain; the thriving town over on the other side had connection with the world in another direction. A railroad ran up to it like a glittering serpent; it had its _ factories and its churches; there were pleasant homes and S Eomicbooks:com