Aneli adjusts a white stocking by the Christmas tree, carefully braided hair and sheer white dress
... He could not be above seventeen, was ruddy, well featur'd enough, with uncombed flaxen hair, a little flapp'd hat, kersey frock, yarn stockings, in short, a perfect plough-boy. I saw him come whistling behind me, with a bundle tied to the end of a stick, his travelling equipage. We walk'd by one another for some time without speaking; at length we join'd company, and agreed to keep together till we got to our journey's end. What his designs or ideas were, I know not: the innocence of mine I can solemnly protest.
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