t do. I'll die first."

Flora stared at her. "Why, why not?" said she.

"I won't."

"I never knew what happiness was until I got married," said Flora.
Then she flushed up suddenly all over her steady face.

Lois, too, started and blushed, as if the other girl's speech had
struck some answering chord in her. The two were silent a moment.
Lois sewed; Flora stared off through the trees at the darkening sky.
The low rumble of thunder was incessant.

"George is one of the best husbands that ever a girl had," said
Flora, in a tender, shamed voice; "but Francis would make just as
good a one."

Lois made no reply. She almost turned her back toward Flora as she
sewed.

"I guess you'll change your mind some time about getting married,"
Flora said.

"No, I never will," returned Lois.

"Well, I suppose if you don't, you'll have money enough to take care
of yourself with some time, as far as that goes," said Flora. Her
voice had a sarcastic ring.

"I shall never have one cent of that Maxwell money," said Lois, with
sudden fire. "I'll tell you that much, once for all!" Her eyes
fairly gleamed in her delicate, burning face.

"Why, you scare me! What is the matter?" cried Flora.

Lois took a stitch. "Nothing," said she.

"You'd ought to have the money, of course," said Flora, in a
bewildered way. "Who else would have it?"

"I don't know," said Lois. "You are the one that ought to have it."

Flora laughed. "Land, I don't want it!" said she. "George earns
plenty for us to live on. She's your own aunt, and of course she'll
have to leave it to you, if she does act so miserly with it now.
There, I know she's your aunt, Lois, and I don't suppose I ought to
speak so, but I can't help it. After all, it don't make much
difference, or it needn't, whether you have it or not. I've begun to
think money is the very least part of anything in this world, and I
want you to be looking out for something else, too, Lois."

"I can't look out for money, or something else, either. You don't
know," said Lois, in a pitiful voice.

There came a flash, and then a great crash of thunder. The tempest
was about to break.

Flora started up abruptly. "I must run," she shouted through a sudden
gust of wind. "Good-by."

Flora sped out of the yard. Her blue dress, lashing around her feet,
changed color in the ghastly light of the storm. Some flying leaves
struck her in the face. At the gate a cloud of dust from the road
nearly blinded her. Sh