lip and stared again into the fire, clenching the fist that had
spoken for her bitterly aching heart. After a time the tense fingers
relaxed, and she held up the hand and looked at it.

"I'm a brute!" she said presently. "An abominable little brute. How do
you stand me? How do you _endure_ me, Father Davy! I just bind the load
on your poor back and pull the knots tight, every time I let myself
break out like this. If you were any minister-father but yourself, you'd
either preach or pray at me. How can you keep from it?"

He smiled. "I never liked to be preached or prayed at myself, dear," he
said. "I have not forgotten. And the Lord Himself doesn't expect a young
caged lioness to act like a caged canary. He doesn't want it to. And
some day--He will let it out of the cage!"

She shook her head, and got up. She kissed the gray curls and patted the
thin cheek, said cheerfully: "I'm going to get your supper now," and
went away out of the room.

In the square old kitchen she flung open an outer door and stood staring
up at the starry winter sky.

"Oh, if anything, anything, _anything_ would happen!" she breathed,
stretching out both arms toward the snowy shrubbery-broken expanse
behind the house which in summer was her garden. "If something would
just keep this evening from being like all the other evenings! I can't
sit and read aloud--_to-night_. I can't--I _can't_! And the only
interesting thing on earth that can happen is that Jimps Stuart may come
over--and he probably won't, because he was over last evening and the
evening before that, and he knows he can't be allowed to come all the
time. He----"

It was at this point that the old brass knocker on the front door
sounded--and something happened.

CHAPTER II

SOMETHING REALLY HAPPENS

It might have been any of the village people, as Georgiana expected it
would be when she closed the kitchen door with a bang and went
reluctantly to answer the knock. Since it was almost suppertime it was
probably Mrs. Shear, who seldom made a call at any other hour, knowing
she would as surely be asked to stay as it was sure that David Warne's
heart would respond to the wanness and unhappiness always written on
Mrs. Shear's homely middle-aged face. As she went to the door, Georgiana
felt an intensely wicked desire to hit Mrs. Shear a blow with her own
capable fist, which should send her backward into the snow. Georgiana
did not believe that the lady was as unhappy as she