lbert sprang up to take the wood from her arms. "I wish you'd let me do
that," he said, pleadingly, as she refused his aid.

"I wasn't sure you were in. Were you reading?"

"Caesar," he replied, holding up the book. "I am conditioned on Latin.
I'm going over the 'Commentaries' again."

"I thought I knew the book," she laughed.

"You read Latin?"

"Yes, a little--Vergil."

"Maybe you can help me out on these _oratia obliqua_. They bother me
yet. I hate these 'Caesar saids.' I like Vergil better."

She stood at his shoulder while he pointed out the knotty passage. She
read it easily, and he thanked her. It was amazing how well acquainted
they felt after this.

The wind roared outside in the bare maples, and the fire boomed in its
pent place within, but these young people had forgotten time and place.
The girl sank into a chair almost unconsciously as they talked of
Madison--a great city to them--of the Capitol building, of the splendid
campus, of the lakes, and the gay sailing there in summer and
ice-boating in winter.

"Oh, it makes me homesick!" cried the girl, with a deep sigh. "It was
the happiest, sunniest time of all my life. Oh, those walks and talks!
Those recitations in the dear, chalky old rooms! Oh, _how_ I would like
to go back over that hollow door-stone again!"

She broke off, with tears in her eyes, and he was obliged to cough two
or three times before he could break the silence.

"I know just how you feel. The first spring when I went back on the farm
it seemed as if I couldn't stand it. I thought I'd go crazy. The days
seemed forty-eight hours long. It was so lonesome, and so dreary on
rainy days! But of course I expected to go back; that's what kept me up.
I don't think I could have stood it if I hadn't had hope."

"I've given it up now," she said, plaintively; "it's no use hoping."

"Why don't you teach?" he asked, deeply affected by her voice and
manner.

"I did teach here for a year, but I couldn't endure the strain; I'm not
very strong, and the boys were so rude. If I could teach in a
seminary--teach Latin and English--I should be happy, I think. But I
can't leave mother now."

She was a wholly different girl in Albert's eyes as she said this. Her
cheap dress, her check apron, could not hide the pure intellectual flame
of her spirit. Her large, blue eyes were deep with thought, and the pale
face, lighted by the glow of the fire, was as lovely as a rose. Almost
before he knew it, he