quarry banked its rugged height against the side of a
great wooded hill. Some twenty feet below the level of the lane was a
huge semicircular base, and from this the jagged sides reared
perpendicularly to the summit of the hill. The top and slopes of this
hill were covered with a dense growth of underbrush and trees. Tall
sycamores bordered the road opposite the quarry, making the spot
sheltered and secluded.

To this place Phoebe hurried the morning after she had gained her
father's consent to go to Philadelphia.

"I just had to come here," she breathed rapturously; "the house is too
narrow, the garden too small, this June morning. They won't hold my
dreams."

She stood under the giant sycamore opposite the quarry and looked
appreciatively about her. Earth's warm, throbbing bosom thrilled with
the universal joy of parentage and fruition. Shafts of sunlight shot
through the green of the trees, odors of wild flowers mingled with the
fresh, woodsy fragrance of the fields and woods, song sparrows flitted
busily among the hedges and sang their delicious, "Maids, maids, maids,
hang on your tea kettle-ettle-ettle!" From the densest portions of the
woods above the quarry a thrush sang--all nature seemed atune with
Phoebe's mood, blithe, happy, joyous!

Phares Eby, going to town that morning, walked slowly as he neared the
Metz farm and looked for a glimpse of Phoebe. He saw, instead, the
portly figure of Aunt Maria as she walked about her garden to see the
progress of her early June peas.

"Why, Phares," she called, "you goin' to Greenwald?"

"Yes. Anything I can do for you?"

"Ach no. Phoebe was in the other day. But come in once, Phares, I'll
tell you something about her."

"Where is Phoebe?" he asked as he joined Aunt Maria in the garden.

"Over at the quarry again. But I must tell you, she's goin' to
Phildelphy to study singin'. She asked her pop and he said she dare."

"Philadelphia--singing!"

"Yes. I don't like it at all, but she's goin' just the same."

"It is a mistake to let her go," said the preacher. "It's a big mistake,
Aunt Maria. She should stay at home or go to some school and learn
something of value to her. In this quiet place she has never heard of
many temptations which, in the city, she must meet face to face. It is
the voice of the Tempter urging her to do this thing and we who are her
friends should persuade her to remain in her good home and near the
friends who care for her. Have you tho