The long yellow grass scratched her ankles as she ran, but she went up the hill laughing and flinging her arms. She came to the oak tree and jumped onto a low branch, her thick dress ballooning about her. The black laced boots and white frilly socks she was meant to wear everyday were kicked off at the bottom of the hill and forgotten about. She sat on the huge oak branch and swung her bare feet forward and back, forward and back, enjoying the breeze and the feeling of the broad hill around her, smelling the fresh leaves…

A panting breath came from behind. A tall footman had come from the house and up the hill running

—the girl’s mother would see her, the first of the suitors had arrived. 

The girl climbed higher in the tree and dismissed the footman, but the footman didn’t leave

—her mother would insist that she come and greet the first suitor; the date had already been decided; the young miss was being extremely difficult!

—The young miss didn’t want to get married to any suitors and the footman could go and tell her mama that!

Finally, the footman was gone and the hill was hers again. She leapt out of the tree, almost flying, and went running to the very top of the hill, down again on the other side, toward the pines that grew crooked on the ridge. There, a little dog came running out to her, silently happy, wagging its brown tail and lolling a tongue too long and loose for its little body. Out of the pine forest a boy in a ragged vest and cap came sauntering after the dog. She ran to him

—oh, she was glad to see Charles; she had the worst news today: the first of the suitors was right there in the house! 

—Charles was glad to see Jocelyn too; but wasn’t this the day she and her mother had decided?

—Yes, this was the day her mother had decided, but not Jocelyn; Jocelyn never wanted to get married to any suitors; she would rather stay out here with Charles! 

Jocelyn stole Charles’ cap and ran off, darting back only to ruffle his hair. The little dog ran along. 

Charles took back his cap with a smile

—Jocelyn had better go home; her mother must want her back.

—Oh, Charles; why would he say that? He knows she likes to be free as the birds that can come and eat the berries and play in the leaves whenever they want! And as free as Charles!

—Jocelyn thinks Charles is free?

—Yes, him and his dog, and his life here on the hill.

—Jocelyn

the boy took her hand

—he’d walk with her back over the hill, her mother must be waiting for her.

—But didn’t Charles want to spend time with her?

—He did, very much.

—And wouldn’t he miss her?

—He would. Very much. Come, Copper would lead her home. 

Jocelyn leaned down to pat the dog’s little head

—good dog, good dog.

Charles smiled

—he would leave her notes about their adventures here in the hills.

—Under the garden rock?

—Yes

Charles watched his girl run off toward the great house that sat at the base of the hill.