f calmness and directness; and Peggy answered him at intervals of
listening, answered apparently less with surprise at what he told her
than in a quiet acceptance, with a little throb of control, and then in
accord with him. Then it was as though they were planning together.

In the still village night their voices sounded very tranquil; after
a little while, even buoyant. Peggy laughed once or twice. Little by
little a breath of relief blew over both her father's solicitude and
mine. It was partly from the coolness and freshness of the out-door air,
and the half-unconscious sense it often brings, that beyond whatever
care is close beside you at the instant there is--and especially for
the young--so much else in all creation. Then, for me, there was a deep
comfort in the knowledge that in this time of need my children had each
other; that they could speak so together, in an intimate sympathy, and
were, not only superficially in name, but really and beautifully, a
brother and sister.

At last, as they parted at the gate, Charles said, in a spirited,
downright tone: "Stick to that, cling to it, make it your answer to
everything. It's all you now know and all you need to know, and you'll
be as firm on it as on a rock."

The lamplight from the street filtering through the elm leaves glimmered
on Peggy's bright hair as she looked up at him. Her eyelashes were wet,
but she was laughing as she said: "But, of course, I HAVE to cling to
it. It's the truth. Good-night! Good-night!" And her step on the stairs
was light and even skipping.

On the next morning, when I knocked at her door to find whether she
would rather breakfast up-stairs, I saw at once she had slept. She stood
before the mirror fastening her belt ribbon, and looking so lovely it
seemed impossible misfortune should ever touch her.

"Why, mother dear, you aren't dressed for the library-board meeting!
Isn't that this morning?"

"Yes."

She looked at me with her little, sweet, quick smile, and we sat down
for a moment on her couch together, each with a sense that neither would
say one word too sharply pressing.

"Dear mother, why NOT go to the board meeting? You don't need to protect
me so. You CAN'T protect me every minute. You see, of course, last night
Charles--told me of what everybody thinks." Her voice throbbed again.
She stopped for a minute. "But for weeks and weeks I had felt something
like this coming toward me. And now that it's come," she went on,