looked at the girl and something new and changed about her
startled him as it had her parents, but, being wiser, he felt no
antagonism. It was an amazing, an interesting thing. The girl had
suddenly developed: that was all. She was eager to try her wings at a
longer flight than any of her sex in Kenmore had ever before dreamed. It
was amusing even if it were serious.

Years before, Farwell had discovered the girl's keen mind and her
quaint originality. As much for his own pleasure as her advantage he
had taught her as he had some of the other village children, erratically,
inconsequently, and here she was now demanding that he fit her out with
a chart for deep-sea sailing.

How could he permit her to harbour, even for an idle moment, the idea of
leaving her shelter and going away? At this the thin, dark face grew
rigid and stern. But too well the man knew the folly of setting up active
opposition to any young thing straining against the door of a cage.
Better open the door even if a string on the leg or a clipped wing had
to be resorted to!

"Did you ever see the States?" The tense voice was imploring.

"Oh, yes. Why do you wish to go there?"

"Why do the boys?"

This was baffling.

"Well, there was Mrs. Hornby's oldest boy, he went to the States, got the
worst of it, and came home to die. He did not find them happy places."

"Yes, but all the other Hornbys went just the same, even Jamsie. It's the
chance, you know, the chance to try what's in you, even if you _do_ come
home and die! You never have a chance in Kenmore; and I don't mean to be
like my mother--like the other women. You see, Mr. Farwell, I'm willing
to suffer, but I _am_ going to know all I want to, and I am going to find
a place where I fit in, if I can."

So small and ignorant did the girl look, yet so determined and keen, that
Farwell grew anxious. Evidently Nathaniel had borne too hard upon her,
borne to the snapping point, and she had, in her wild fashion, caught the
infection of the last going away--Jamsie Hornby's. It was laughable, but
pathetic.

"What could you do?" Farwell leaned forward and gazed into the strange
blue eyes fixed upon him.

"Dance. Have you ever seen me dance? Do you want to?" She was prepared to
prove herself.

"Good Lord! no, no!"

"Oh! I can dance. If some one would play for me--play on--on a fiddle, I
could dance all day and night. Wouldn't people pay for that?"

This was serious business. By some subtle sugg