ho had gotten the best out of his studies and returned ambitious to
bring new life to his ancestral acres. "You're quite a missionary," she
said once to his aunt's disgust. Lee might fuss about his trees if he
liked, but business acumen was a little vulgar and at the least should
be concealed, while criticism of the South, the suggestion that it was a
mission field, was rank impertinence.

Sometimes Lee brought a book and read to them here and there, for Miss
Patty did not care for a continuous story. One afternoon it was a poem
written by a classmate who had died before his college days were over.
Coming from one who left the earth so young, its promise of future
endeavor, of service to humanity, made it a tragic little verse. Miss
Patty wiped her eyes when it was over and called on Hertha to set her
work right. During these times Lee never spoke to Hertha nor seemed to
look in her direction, but he always knew when she had left the porch
and rarely stayed long after her absence. Miss Patty felt pleased that
her Boston guest was interesting her boy so that she had more of his
company.

On Sunday Ellen proposed to her sister that they take a walk, and they
went among the pines and dark cypresses, through the swamp, and by the
black creek. It was hot and humid, the mosquitoes were annoying, and
they were both tired when they returned to the cabin steps.

"I don't like this time of year," Hertha said when they sat down. "It's
so silent. The birds ceased singing long ago; they only call to one
another now."

"The mosquitoes haven't ceased singing, I notice," Ellen replied,
laughing. "Now I like this time of year best of all. October means the
beginning of cool weather and work."

When Hertha went to her room that night a little breeze greeted her as
she sat down by her window. It was cloudy at first, but in a few moments
the clouds broke and the moonlight streamed upon the dark trees and the
white sand. She watched the moon sailing through the clouds, she smelt
the roses by the porch, and the wall that her will had built against her
sweet and rapturous thoughts broke down, and with a rush her spirit was
swept with tumultuous love.

"Cinderella," Lee said to her the next morning as she turned into the
orange grove, "you've been a shockingly long time coming."

"I know it," she answered, "but there were so many things to think of,
sitting by the fire."

"Don't think," he urged. "I've given it up. Don't think, but li