would never get any better. But he said one thing
to me. He told me to dance and have a good time and to be sure to keep
out of the conflict. That was the way he put it, 'Keep out of the
conflict.'"

"That might be good advice if you could."

"I suppose you could," Hertha said slowly, "if you made up your mind to;
just to have an easy, comfortable time. Now Kathleen was always in the
conflict. She was trying to change the world, to change everybody--at
least everybody who was poor. And here I can't decide what to do with my
own life."

"It's a heap easier," Tom remarked meditatively, "to run other folks'
lives than it is your own."

They had walked down the aisle to the corridor and now stood by the
closed door.

"I haven't made my mind up yet about marriage," Tom said. "It's a great
risk, it sure is. I was reading the other day about trial marriages.
Seemed like that might not be a bad idea--each agree to try each other
out for a time and then if things suited, match up for good."

"Where did you read that?" Hertha asked, curiosity surmounting
disapproval in her voice.

"In the paper," was the all-sufficient answer. "It were only a
suggestion."

"_Was_, Tom."

"Yes'm."

"I'm afraid it's a suggestion that most people would think wicked," she
gave a resigned sigh, "like divorce. Well, I'm glad we had this talk."

"So am I," Tom made hearty response. "And that wasn't a bad idea,
Hertha, to keep out of the conflict."

"There's one thing I want you to promise me," the girl's thoughts turned
from herself to her old home. "I want you to promise to let me keep in
touch with you. You're nearer than the folks down South. Promise that
you won't go away without my knowing."

"Sure," he answered.

"And one thing more, if you hear from them at home that any one is ill,
or that they're going to move, you must let me know. I mean to write to
them before long, I'm going to settle a lot of things in my mind when
school's over, but I rely on you to let me know the news."

"Yes."

"It's a promise?"

"Yes, Hertha, it's a promise."

She put her hand in his to say good-by. "You're my boy, you remember."
There was a world of gentleness and love in her voice. "Do you know, I
told Kathleen and then Dick that I had a brother, a little brother who
was in school."

"I's feared you shouldn't have said that, Hertha."

"I had to have some relatives, didn't I? And I just naturally had you.
And we'll never forget one anoth