g
and do right."

Suddenly her matter-of-fact mood changed. With a sob she took her little
sister in her arms and kissed her again and again: "Don't say it was
chance!" The tears were on her face. "I don't believe in chance. The
Lord was watching over you all the time."

CHAPTER XXXVII

Hertha slept through the quiet night without moving but awakened with
the birds at dawn. The first low twitterings fell upon deaf ears, but as
the sounds grew brighter and more numerous, as one singer after another
joined in the chorus, she moved lazily and opened her eyes.

"Come to me, come to me," the red bird whistled; and his mate answered
with a call of sweet compliance. "See what I'm doing, hurry up, hurry
up," cried the mockingbird, repeating over and over his song of welcome.

Rising from her bed, Hertha went to the window. The soft, dim light of
dawn gained minute by minute in radiance as she stood looking out upon
the familiar world. Beneath her window grew white lilies, wafting her
with their fragrance. Violets, red roses, pink phlox, nodded their heads
in greeting. The tall pines murmured a good-morning, and overhead
stretched the great vault of sky each moment losing its depth of blue,
its stars imperceptibly fading from sight. Every sight and sound and
odor breathed the joy and hope of the dawning day.

When she had taken her fill of deep breaths of the summer air she turned
back to her room. On the floor were her two bags with which she had
started on her journey eight months ago. Kathleen had gone to her
Brooklyn home, packed and sent them on to her. They had arrived
yesterday, but she had left them untouched, dreading to look at the
contents. The morning however brought courage, and kneeling on the floor
she took the larger of the two and pressed the lock.

Out tumbled slippers and underclothes, books and hairpins, dresses and
handkerchiefs. Hertha shook and folded and put away until suddenly she
stopped to see her calendar at the bottom of the bag. Staring up at her
were the days of the month of June, and around the figure 25 was a
carefully drawn circle, a circle inclosing this dawning day.

This day she was to make her decision. So she had willed it. The date,
marked by her hand, stood in confirmation. After looking for a few
moments, she pressed her lips firmly together, and then in her old,
deliberate, tranquil fashion washed and dressed. In her drawer,
carefully laundered and folded away,--her mam