ry conversational," he acknowledged.

"Certainly NOT!" she said severely. "That would have been very
disappointing. There has been nothing to say." She turned and waved her
hat at the beech woods falling sombre against the lowering sun.

"Good-bye," she said gravely, "and pleasant dreams to you. I hope those
very saucy little birds won't keep you awake." She looked up at Orde.
"He was rather nice to us this afternoon," she explained, "and it's
always well to be polite to them anyway." She gazed steadily at Orde for
signs of amusement. He resolutely held his face sympathetic.

"Now I think we'll go home," said she.

They made their way between the stumps to the edge of the sand-hill
overlooking the village. With one accord they stopped. The low-slanting
sun cast across the vista a sleepy light of evening.

"How would you like to live in a place like that all your life?" asked
Orde.

"I don't know." She weighed her words carefully. "It would depend. The
place isn't of so much importance, it seems to me. It's the life one is
called to. It's whether one finds her soul's realm or not that a place
is liveable or not. I can imagine entering my kingdom at a railway
water-tank," she said quaintly, "or missing it entirely in a big city."

Orde looked out over the raw little village with a new interest.

"Of course I can see how a man's work can lie in a small place," said
he; "but a woman is different."

"Why is a woman different?" she challenged. "What is her 'work,' as you
call it; and why shouldn't it, as well as a man's, lie in a small place?
What is work--outside of drudgery--unless it is correspondence of one's
abilities to one's task?"

"But the compensations--" began Orde vaguely.

"Compensations?" she cried. "What do you mean? Here are the woods and
fields, the river, the lake, the birds, and the breezes. We'll check
them off against the theatre and balls. Books can be had here as well
as anywhere. As to people: in a large city you meet a great many,
and they're all busy, and unless you make an especial and particular
effort--which you're not likely to--you'll see them only casually and
once in a great while. In a small place you know fewer people; but you
know them intimately." She broke off with a half-laugh. "I'm from New
York," she stated humorously, "and you've magicked me into an eloquent
defense of Podunk!" She laughed up at Orde quite frankly. "Giant
Strides!" she challenged suddenly. She turned off t