ing to what had just been said between them, the
girl and man walked along, talking quietly of other things until they
came to the stream of water sheltered by trees, with a rim of hills
along the other side. Away from the possibility of being interrupted
Esther stopped, putting her hand on her companion's arm.

She did not look like her usual self; her face was flooded with color
and her shyness and reserve for the moment seemed swept away.

"You were not fair to me just now," she declared. "You had not the right
to tell me you cared for me without asking me what my feeling was for
you. Why does everybody in the world think that because I have a talent
I have to sacrifice my whole life to it? I love my music, but I don't
wish to be an opera singer. I hate the kind of existence it forces one
to lead. I want a home of my own and some one to care for me. Why do
people nowadays think that girls are so changed, that all of us are
wishing to be independent and famous? Why, it was because our old Camp
Fire club taught us that all the best things of life are centered about
the hearth fire that means home, that I first cared for it so much. I
wonder if any one realizes because I was brought up in an orphan asylum
and then lived with other people that I have never had a home of my own
in my life. But of course this would not count, Dick, if I did not care
for you more than I do for my music, or even for Betty. Tell me, then,
is it my duty to go on with my work in Berlin, to give up everything I
wish for a career I don't desire?" And here, overcome by the rush of her
own feelings and her own words, Esther ceased speaking, feeling her old
stupid, nervous trembling seize her.

But Richard Ashton's arms were about her, holding her still.

"The most perfect home that my love can make for you, Esther, shall be
yours so long as we live. And there are other ways where the gift of a
beautiful voice may bring pleasure and reward outside of the life you
dread."

CHAPTER XXI

Sunrise Cabin

It was Christmas once more at the Camp Fire cabin and a wonderful white
night. Everywhere there was snow and enchantment under the "Long-night
Moon."

Dinner was over, for from the inside of the great living room came the
sound of music and dancing and many gay voices.

Built like a magic circle about the log house were seven camp fires,
uncurling their long fingers of flame into the frost-laden air. And now
and then fire-makers came o