Then, using the skirt of her dress to dry them, she climbed on the wagon.
"I'll tell you, word for word, how it happened," she said, "and then you shall decide, and Freckles and I will agree with you." When she had finished her version, "Tell us, 'oh, most learned judge!'" she laughingly quoted, "which of us located that tree ?" "Blest if I know who located it!" exclaimed McLean.

"But I have a fairly accurate idea as to who put the blue ribbon on it." The Boss smiled significantly at Freckles, who just had come, for they had planned that they would instruct the company to reserve enough of the veneer from that very tree to make the most beautiful dressing table they could design for the Angel's share of the discovery.
"What will you have for yours ?" McLean had asked of Freckles.
"If it's all the same to you, I'll be taking mine out in music lessons--begging your pardon--voice culture," said Freckles with a grimace.
McLean laughed, for Freckles needed to see or hear only once to absorb learning as the thirsty earth sucks up water.
The Angel placed McLean at the head of the table.

She took the foot, with Freckles on her right, while the lumber gang, washed, brushed, and straightened until they felt unfamiliar with themselves and each other, filled the sides.

That imposed a slight constraint.

Then, too, the men were afraid of the flowers, the polished tableware, and above all, of the dainty grace of the Angel.