e motor-car moved.

For the first time in Lou's life a panic seized her, a desperate longing
to run away. She opened her eyes and looked across the hay-fields to
where that tall, stalwart figure worked beside the two smaller ones.
Even from that distance he looked different, somehow; he wasn't the same
Jim.

Slowly, with a mist before her eyes she picked up the heavy basket, and,
descending the steps of the porch, spread the garments upon the
bleaching grass to dry. The glittering glories of the circus had turned
all at once to a black shadow in her memory, and she wished fervently
that she had never seen it nor those rich people who had come to make a
mock of it, but had stayed to applaud Jim.

But why shouldn't they, even if they hadn't recognized him? He belonged
to their world, not hers. Then a new, inexpressibly forlorn thought came
to her; what was her world, anyway? She didn't belong anywhere; there
was no place for her unless she made one for herself, some time.

With that, in spite of this strange, new weariness which dragged at her
heart, Lou's indomitable spirit reasserted itself, and her small teeth
clamped together. She _would_ make herself a place somewhere,
somehow.

Returning to the house, she took the ironing from her tired hostess's
hands, and worked steadily until at sundown the high treble of childish
voices came to her ears, and Jim's merry, laughing tones in reply sent a
quick stab through her, but she put down the iron and went determinedly
out on the porch.

The two little boys came shyly on up the steps, but Jim had paused to
feel of his coat, as it lay on the grass, and looked ruefully at her.

"It's wet still, I'm afraid," she remarked composedly, as she picked up
the red note-book and held it out to him. "Is this yourn? It looks as
though it must have dropped out of your pocket an' somebody stepped on
it."

If the girl noted the swift change which came over his face she gave no
sign as he came forward and took the book from her hands.

"Yes, it's mine." He opened and closed it again, and then looked up
uncertainly into her face as she stood on the steps above him, but Lou
was gazing in seeming serenity out over the fields, which were still
shimmering in the last rays of the sun. "I--I'll tell you about this
some time, Lou. It's funny."

"What's funny?" she asked, with a little start, as though he had
interrupted some train of thought of her own, far removed from hateful
little re