w thought.

"I'll be kind to her when I get her. I'm only playing her with the hook
in her mouth."

But Jerry-Jo was scheming without considering the Lure, which never was
long absent from Priscilla's mind at that time.

One early September afternoon Priscilla presented herself at Farwell's
cabin in so startling a manner that she roused the man as nothing
previously in his association with her had ever done.

He was sitting at the west window of his living-room, his back toward the
door leading to the Green. For a wonder, what he was reading had absorbed
him, and he was far and away from the In-Place. He had taken to fine, old
literature lately and had found, to his delight, that his mind was
capable of appreciating it.

"Wisdom, slow product of laborious years,
The only fruit that life's cold winter bears,
Thy sacred seeds in vain in youth we lay,
By the fierce storm of passion torn away;
Should some remain in rich, gen'rous soil,
They long lie hid, and must be raised with toil;
Faintly they struggle with inclement skies,
No sooner born than the poor planter dies."

With such word-comfort did Farwell dig, from other's experiences, crude
guidings for himself! And at that moment a stir outside the open door
caused him to turn and confront what, in the excited moment, seemed an
apparition from the past, which, for him, was sealed and barred.

"Good Lord!" he ejaculated under his breath and started to his feet. A
visitor from the Lodge apparently had descended upon him.

"I beg pardon," he said aloud, and then a laugh, familiar and ringing,
brought the colour to his pale, thin face.

The girl came in, threw back the veil from her merry face, and confronted
Farwell.

"Miss Priscilla Glenn, sir! Behold her in the battered finery of the
place she is going to--to grace some day!"

Then Priscilla wheeled about lightly and displayed her gown to Farwell's
astonished eyes.

"Cast-offs," she explained; "the Honourable Mrs. Jones from the States
left them with Mrs. McAlpin for the poor. Just imagine the 'poor'
glinting around in this gay silk gown all frayed at the hem and in holes
under the arms! The hat and veil, too, go with the smart frock; likewise
the scarf of rainbow colours. But, oh! Mr. Farwell, how do I look as a
real lady in my damaged outfit?"

Farwell stared without speaking. He had grown so used to the change in
the girl since the time when he had prevailed upon Glenn to loosen the