” “Try what?” She asked, coolly assessing his lithe hips. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs.
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