e begged.

"For what?"

"For being so--so snippy when I first came into the room; for not
believing in you, nor wanting you."

Cousin Jacob took her chin in his hard hand and his shining gaze met
hers.

"You weren't thinking right, Sylvia. Oughtn't it to make you easier on
other folks? Other folks who didn't know you, who didn't believe in
you, who didn't want you? They weren't thinking right, and they
suffered for it afterward just as we all do. You'd have been kind to
your Cousin Jacob in the end, anyway. They'd have been kind in the end
to their niece. I saw you weren't glad to see me. I might have picked
up my grip and left"--

"Oh, I'm so glad you didn't. I'm so glad you didn't! You'll wait while
I pack?"

He patted her shoulder. "Yes, oh, yes. I'll wait."

CHAPTER VII

THE MILL FARM

Sylvia's sleep that night in Portland was profound. A sense of peace
and safety had grown upon her from the time she took the train out of
Boston with her new companion; and the next morning she awoke
refreshed, in a chamber filled with sunlight.

She dressed and went down to the dining-room of the boarding-house
where they were staying, and found her cousin standing by the window
looking out on the fresh green of tall elms that shaded the quiet
street.

"Well, well," he said, turning to meet her bright eyes. "Spring
outside, and spring inside. You've had a good sleep, little one."

He held out both his hands, and Sylvia put hers into them.

"Dear me, I'm afraid it's noon," for now she noticed that breakfast had
been served.

"No, we have time still to make the train I told Cap'n Lem to meet, and
eat a little something into the bargain."

The speaker moved to the table and rang a bell.

"Oh, you've waited too long for your breakfast," said Sylvia.

"No, indeed! Been watching the orioles that are bringing up a family
out in that tree. Busy times, I tell you. Makes me think of the day
Calvin and I wanted to rob an oriole's nest,--hang-birds, we called
them,--and a little girl with short curls and a sunbonnet wouldn't let
us do it; a girl who'd stand only a little higher than your elbow."

"Mother?" asked Sylvia softly.

Jacob Johnson nodded, and they sat down to breakfast.

An hour later they were speeding along in the train nearing the town
which was their destination.

"I never have been on a farm, Cousin Jacob," said Sylvia.

"'Tisn't much of a farm we have here," he replied. "Just enough to
rai