een transformed. John Boswell had transferred the
comfort, without the needless luxury, from the town home to the
In-Place--books, pictures, rugs, the winged chair and an equally easy one
across the hearth. And, yes, there was her own small rocker close by, as
if, in their detachment, they still remembered her and missed her and
were--ready for her coming! Priscilla noiselessly took off her wraps and
sat down, glad to rest again in the welcoming chair.

She swayed back and forth, her closely folded arms across her
fast-beating heart. She kept her face turned toward the door through
which she knew the men would enter. She struggled for control, for a
manner which would disarm their shock at seeing her; but never in her
life had she felt more defeated, more helplessly at bay.

The early morning light, streaming through the broad eastern window,
struck full across her where she sat in the low rocker; and so Boswell
and Farwell came upon her. They stopped short on the threshold and each,
in his way, sought to account for the apparition. The brave smile upon
Priscilla's face broke and fled miserably.

"I--I've been doshed!" she cried in a last effort at bravado, and then,
covering her face with her hands, she wept hysterically, repeating again
and again, "I've come home, come home--to--no home!"

They were beside her at once. Boswell's hand rested on the bowed head;
Farwell's on the back of her chair.

"Dear, bright Butterfly!" whispered Boswell comfortingly; "it has come to
grief in the Garden."

"Oh! I wanted to learn, and oh! Master Farwell, I said I was willing to
suffer, and I have, I have!"

Then she looked up and her unflinching courage returned.

"I was tired!" she moaned; "tired and hungry."

"After breakfast you will explain--only as much as you choose, child."
This from Farwell. "Make the toast for us, Priscilla. I remember how
you used to brown it without blackening it. Boswell always gets dreaming
on the second side of the slice."

After the strange meal Priscilla told very little, but both men read
volumes in her pale, thin face and understanding eyes.

"Damn them!" thought Farwell; "they have taken it out of her. I knew they
would; but they have not conquered her!"

Boswell thoughtfully considered her when her eyes were turned from him.

"She learned," he thought; "suffered and learned; but when she gets her
breath she will go back. The In-Place cannot hold her."

Then they told her of the Kenm