ficence of dying day held her spellbound, then conscience spoke
again, and she hurried into the kitchen. The golden light was streaming
into the room, bringing out all its ugliness and disorder, and her
mother was standing by the table just where Miranda had left her that
morning.

"This is a pretty time of day for you to come home. Where have you been
all this time?" She looked at her daughter with cold displeasure, but
under the displeasure Miranda saw the expression of despair and
weariness that comes of unrecompensed toil, and a pang of remorse went
through her heart. She took her mother by the shoulders and gently
pushed her away from the table.

"Go out and sit on the porch, Mother, and look at the sky. I'll get
supper, and to-morrow I'll begin the house cleaning."

There was something in the girl's voice that checked the rising anger in
her mother's heart and stilled the upbraiding words that were on her
lips. She looked searchingly at her daughter and then turned silently
away. Miranda went to work with a willingness that surprised herself.
All the weariness and disgust of the morning were gone. She had
voluntarily resumed the shackles of duty, but as she worked she looked
out of the window to catch glimpses of the fading splendor that was
rounding out her flawless day, and in her heart she resolved that as
long as she lived, no spring should pass without a day in the woods. She
had eaten nothing since morning, but the mood of exaltation was still
upon her, and even the odor of the food she cooked roused no sense of
hunger. She thought of a Bible text learned when she was a child: "Man
doth not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of
the mouth of God." Perhaps all the splendor of color and light, all the
opulence of perfume and warmth and music that make spring are words of
God. All day she had been living by those words, and she knew the
meaning of another occult saying of Christ: "I have meat to eat that ye
know not of."

She placed the evening meal on the table, called the family, and served
them more cheerfully than ever before; and when they had eaten, she
cleared the table and washed the dishes, while her mother rested again
on the porch. Her hands moved mechanically over the work. She could hear
the voices of her father and brothers; they were talking about crops and
the weather, and the planting that must be done that week. Now and then
her mother put in a word of querulous comp