l
herself. She came here really as a pupil--but she's much more than that
now. She teaches the younger children while she studies herself--and
she has developed a positive genius for this work."

Miss Pendleton paused and then added: "I'm going to let the two of you
talk together first--and then I'll join you."

Bear Cat rose and stood courteously acquiescent, then his hostess left
him and he saw another figure appear to stand framed in the door. His
heart rose out of his breast into the throat and choked him, for he
believed that his dreaming had unsettled his mind.

There stood Blossom with the amber light kindling her soft hair into a
nimbus of radiance, and in her cheeks was the old color like the heart
of the laurel's flower.

She stood slim and straight, no longer pallid or thin, and in her eyes
danced a light of welcome.

"Blossom," he stammered--and she left her frame and its amber
background to come forward--with her hands extended.

"Turney," was all she said.

"How came you here?" he demanded, forgetting to release her slim hands.
"How did this come to pass?"

She looked out over the blue and silver leagues of the June night, and
said simply. "There's lots to tell you--let's go out there and talk."

They were standing on a great bowlder where the moss and ferns grew,
and about them twinkled myriads of fireflies. They had been silent for
a long time and Turner's voice had a strained note as he said slowly.
"I promised ye ... thet I wouldn't ever pester ye again with ...
love-making ... but to-night it's right hard ter keep thet pledge."

The breeze was stirring her hair and her own eyes were deep as she
gazed away, but suddenly she turned and her long lashes were raised as
she met his gaze.

"I don't want ... that you should keep it," she whispered. "I give you
back your pledge."

As in those old days the hills seemed to rock about him and the arms
that came forward and paused were unsteady.

"Ye means ... thet...."

"I means thet I loved ye first, Turney." The words came tremulously,
almost whispered, and in them was something of self-accusation. "Maybe
I ought to be ashamed--but somehow I can't. All of what happened seems
to me like a dream that doesn't really belong in my life. It seems to
me that I was dazzled and couldn't tell the true from the seeming....
It seems as I look back that a little piece of my life was torn loose
from the rest--but that the real me has always been yours."