There was no man among them who needed her exquisite face or dainty clothing to teach him that the deference due a gentlewoman should be paid her.

That the spirit of good fellowship she radiated levied an especial tribute of its own, and it became their delight to honor and please her.
As they raced toward the wagon--"Let me tell about the tree, please ?" she begged Freckles.
"Why, sure!" said Freckles.
He probably would have said the same to anything she suggested.

When McLean came, he found the Angel flushed and glowing, sitting on the wagon, her hands already filled.

One of the men, who was cutting a scrub-oak, had carried to her a handful of crimson leaves.

Another had gathered a bunch of delicate marsh-grass heads for her.