eady for me when I
get back in a few months. We'll have to inoculate the land before we sow.
Only here are just one or two things I will say to you before I have to
start."

For about ten minutes Adam stood there before those farmer folk and, with
his fluty voice and the fire glow in his eyes, led them up upon a high
mountain of imagination and showed them the distant land into which he
could lead them, which, when they arrived, they would find to be their own.

The baby on my lap stirred, and I lifted him against my throbbing breast
as I listened to this gospel of a new earth, which might be made into the
outposts of a new Heaven, in which man would nourish his weaker brother
into a strength equal to his own, so that no man or nation would have to
fight for existence or a place in the sun. Then while we all sat breathless
from his magic, Pan vanished and left us to be sent home rejoicing by the
governor.

Sent home rejoicing? Suddenly I realized that when Evan Adam Baldwin had
gone, my Pan had also vanished without a word to me. What did it mean? His
eyes hadn't found me sitting apart from my delegation with another woman's
baby in my arms. Would there be a word for me in the morning?

"In Baldwin emerges the new American," said Matthew, with a light in his
face I had never seen before, as we all rose to go.

"Do you blame every woman in the world for being mad about him when you saw
that look in his eyes when he held out his hands and chanted that food
plea to us? I'm glad he doesn't beckon to me, or I am afraid Owen Murray
and Madam Felicia would be disappointed about that June decision of mine,"
said Bess as she and Owen helped Bud pack the Tilletts and me into the ark
for our return trip.

"Will there be word for me in the morning?" the old wheels rattled all the
way out the Riverfield ribbon, and I thought an old owl hooted the question
at me from a dead tree beside the road, while I felt also that a
mocking-bird sang it from a thicket of dogwood in ghostly bloom opposite.
"Will there be word in the morning?"

The next morning I awoke with the same question making a new motive in the
chant on my heartstrings.

"Uncle Cradd will bring his letter when he comes back from the post-office,
and I know he'll send a message to you, Mr. G. Bird," I said happily, as I
watered and fed and caressed and joyed in the entire barn family. "I hate
him for being what he is and treating me this way, but I love him still
mor