CHAPTER I The night was hot and dark for the moon rose late, the perfume of the Petunia bed hung heavy in the air, and the cateedids and crickets kept up a continual symphony in the orchard close to the house. Its music floated in at the open window, and called to the girl alluringly, as she sat in the darkened upper room, patiently rocking Amaline's baby to sleep in the little wooden cradle. She had washed the supper dishes, the tea towels hung smoothly on the little line in the woodshed, the milk-pans stood in a shining row ready for the early milking, and the kitchen, swept and garnished and dark, had settled into its nightly repose. The day had been long and full of hard work, but now, as soon as the baby slept, Phoebe would be free for a while before bedtime. Unconsciously, her foot tapped faster on the rocker in her impatience to be out, and the baby stirred and opened his round eyes at her, murmuring sleepily, Pee-bee, Up-bee-nee, Pee-bee, Up-bee-nee, which being interpreted was a demand to be taken up on Phoebe's knee. But Phoebe, knowing from experience that she would be tied for the evening if she exceeded to this request, toned her rocking into a sleepy motion, and the long lashes suddenly dropped again upon the fat little cheeks. At last the baby was asleep. With careful touch, Phoebe slowed the rocking until the motion was scarcely perceptible, waiting a minute in hushed attention to hear the soft regular breathing after the cradle had stopped. Then she rose noiselessly from her chair and poised on tiptoe over the cradle to listen once more and be sure before she stole softly from the room. As she reached the door the baby heaved a long deep sigh, doubtless of satisfaction with its toys in dreamland, and Phoebe paused, her heart standing still for an instant, lest after all that naughty baby should waken and demand to be taken up. How many times had she just reached the door on other hot summer nights and been greeted by a loud cry which served to bring Amaline to the foot of the stairs with? I declare, Phoebe Dean, I should think if you would half try you could keep that poor child from crying all night! And Phoebe would be in for an hour or two of singing and rocking and amusing the fretful baby. But the baby slept on, and Phoebe stepped cautiously over the creaking boards in the floor and down the stairs lightly, scarcely daring yet to breathe. Like a fairy she slipped past the sitting-room door, scarcely daring to glance in lest she would be seen, yet carrying with her the perfect mental picture of the room and its occupants as she glided out into the night. Albert, her half-brother, was in the sitting-room. She could see his outline through the window. Albert, with his long, thin, kindly careless face, bent over the village paper, he had brought home just before supper. Amaline sat over by the table close to the candle, with her sharp features intent upon the hole in Johnny's stocking. She had been threading her needle as Phoebe passed the door, and the fretful lines between her eyes were intensified by the effort to get the thread into the eye of the needle. Hyrum Green was in the sitting-room also. He was the neighbor whose farm adjoined Albert Deans on the side next to the village. He was sitting opposite the hall door, his lank form in a split-bottomed chair tilted back against the wall.  He often sat so with Albert in the evening. Sometimes Amaline called Phoebe in and gave her some darning or mending, and then Phoebe had to listen to Hyrum Green's dull talk to escape which she had fallen into the habit of slipping out into the orchard after her work was done. But it was not always that she could allude the vigilance of Amaline, who seemed to be determined that Phoebe should not have a moment to herself day or night. Phoebe wore a thin white frock, that was one of Amaline's grievances, those thin white frocks that Phoebe would insist on wearing afternoons, so uneconomical and foolish. Besides, they would wear out some time. Amaline felt that Phoebe should keep her mother's frocks till she married, and so save Albert having to spend so much on her setting out.  Her frocks had been too fine and too daintily trimmed to belong to a sensible woman, Amaline thought. Phoebe flashed across the path of light that fell from the door and into the orchard like some winged creature. She loved the night with its sounds and its scents and its darkness, darkness like velvet, with depths for hiding, and a glimpse of the vaulted sky set with faraway stars. Soon the summer would be gone, the branches would be bare against the stark whiteness of the snow, and all her solitude and dreaming would be over until the spring again. She cherished every moment of the summer as if it were worth rich gold. She loved to sit on the fence that separated the orchard from the meadow and wonder what the rusty-throated crickets were saying as they chirped or moaned. She liked to listen to the argument about Katie and wonder over and over again what it was that Katie did and why she did it and whether she really did it at all as the little green creatures in the branches declared, for all the world the way people were picked to pieces at the sowing bees. That was just the way they used to talk about that young Mrs. Spafford. Nobody was safe from gossip, for they said Mrs. Spafford belonged to the old Skyler family, when she came a bride to the town, how cruel tongues were and how babbling and irresponsible like the Katie dids. The girl seated herself in her usual place, leaning against the high crotch of the two upright rails which supported that section of the fence. It was cool and delicious here, with the orchard for screening and the wide pasture meadow for scenery. The sky was powdered with stars, the fragrant breath of the pasture fanned her cheek, the tree-toads joined in the nightly concert, with a deep frog base keeping time.  Then suddenly there came a discordant crackle of the apple branches, and Hiram Green stepped heavily out from the shadows and stood beside her.  Women are forever talking about what they don't understand.  But the girl had never forgotten it. She had been but a little girl then, very shy and quiet, almost a stranger in the town, for her mother had just died, and she had come to live with her half-brother, who had been married so long that he was almost a stranger to her. Hiram Green had not noticed the young girl then, and had treated his wife as if no one were present, but Phoebe had remembered. She had grown to know and love the sad wife, to watch her gentle, patient ways with her boisterous boys and her blousy little girl who looked like Hiram and had none of her mother's delicacy, and her heart used to fill with indignation over the rude ways of the coarse man with his wife.  Phoebe had been with her for a week before she died and watched the stolid husband with never a shadow of anxiety in his eyes while he told the neighbors that, any would be all right in a few days, it was her own fault anyway that she got down sick. She would drive over to see her mother when she wasn't able. He neglected to state that she had been making preserves and jelly for his special benefit, and had prepared dinner for twelve men who were harvesting for a week. He did not state that she only went to see her mother once in six months, and it was her only holiday. Phoebe had listened and inwardly fumed over the blindness and hardness of his nature. When Annie died he blamed her as he had always done, and hinted that he guessed now she was sorry she hadn't listened to him and been content at home, as if any kind of heaven wouldn't be better than Hiram Green's house to his poor disappointed wife. But Phoebe had stood beside the dying woman as her life flickered out, and heard her say, I ain't sorry to go, Phoebe, for I'm tired. I'm that tired that I'd rather rest through eternity than do anything else. I don't think Hiram will miss me much, and the children ain't like me. They never took after me, only the baby that died. They didn't care when I went away to mothers. I don't think anybody in the world will miss me unless it's mother, and she has the other girls and never saw me much anyway now. Maybe the baby that died'll want me. And so the weary eyes had closed, and Phoebe had been glad to fold the thin work-worn hands across her breast and feel that she was at rest. The only expression of regret that Hiram gave was, it's going to be mighty unhandy her dying just now, harvesting ain't over yet, and the meadow lot ought to be cut before it rains, or the whole thing will be lost. Then Phoebe felt a fierce delight in the fact that everything had to stop for Annie. Whether Hiram would or know, for very decency's sake, the work must stop and the forms of respect must be gone through with, even though his heart was not in it. The rain came, too, to do Annie honor, and before the meadow lot was cut. The funeral over, the farm work had gone on with doubled vigor, and Phoebe overheard Hiram tell Albert that, burying Annie had been mighty expensive counter that thunderstorm coming so soon, it spoiled the whole south meadow, and it was just like Annie to upset everything. If she had only been a little more careful and not gone off to her mother's on pleasure, she might have kept up a little longer till harvest was over. Phoebe had been coming into the sitting-room with her sewing when Hiram said that. It was a fall evening, not six weeks after Annie had been laid to rest, and she looked indignantly at her brother to see if he would not give Hiram a rebuke, but he only leaned back against the wall and said, such things were to be expected in the natural course of life, he supposed. Phoebe turned her chair so that she would not have to look at Hiram. She despised him. She wished she knew how to show him what a despicable creature he was, but she was only a young girl who could do nothing but turn her back. Perhaps Phoebe never realized how effective that method might be. At least she never knew that all that evening Hiram Green watched the back of her shining head, its waves of bright hair bound about with a ribbon, and conforming to the beautiful shape of her head with exquisite grace. He studied the shapely shoulders and graceful movements of the indignant girl as she patiently mended Johnny's stockings, let down the hem of Alma's Lindsay Woolsey, and set a patch on the seat of Bertie's trousers with her slender, capable fingers. He remembered that Annie had been pretty when he married her, and it gratified him to feel that he had given her this tribute in his thoughts. He felt himself to be a truly sorrowful widower. At the same time he could see the good points in the girl Phoebe, even though she sat with her indignant shoulders toward him. In fact, the very sassiness of those shoulders, as the winter went by, acted him more and more. Annie had never dared be saucy nor indifferent. Annie had loved him from the first, and had unfortunately let him know it too soon and too often. It was a new experience to have someone indifferent to him. He rather liked it, knowing as he did that he had always had his own way when he got ready for it. As the winter went by, Hyrum had more and more spent his evenings with the deans, and Phoebe had more and more spent her evenings with Johnny, or the cradle, or in her own room, anything as an excuse to get away from the constant unwelcome companionship. Then Emmeline had objected to the extravagance of an extra candle, and moreover Phoebe's room was cold. It was not that there was not plenty of wood stored in the dean woodhouse, or that there was need for rigid economy, but Emmeline was thrifty, and could see no sense in a girl wasting a candle when one light would do for all, so the days went by for Phoebe full of hard work and constant companionship, and the evenings also with no leisure and no seclusion. Phoebe had longed and longed for the spring to come, when she might get out into the night alone, and take long deep breaths that were all her own, for it seemed as if even her breathing were ordered and supervised. But through it all, strange to say, it had never once entered Phoebe's head that Hyrum was turning his thoughts toward her, and so, when he came and stood there beside her in the darkness, he startled her merely because he was something she disliked, and she shrank from him as one would shrink from a snake in the grass. Then Hyrum came closer to her, and her heart gave one warning thud of alarm as she shrank away from him. Phoebe, he said boldly, putting out his hand to where he supposed her hands would be in the darkness, though he did not find hers. Ain't it about time you and I was coming to an understanding? Phoebe slid off the fence and backed away in the darkness. She knew the location of every apple-tree, and could have led him a chase through their labyrinths if she had chosen. Her heart froze within her for fear of what might be coming, and she felt she must not run away, but stay and face it whatever it was. What do you mean? asked Phoebe, her voice full of antagonism. Mean? said Hyrum, sidling after her. I mean it's time we set up a partnership. I've waited long enough. I need somebody to look after the children. You suit me pretty well, and I'd guess you'd be well enough fixed with me. Hyrum's air of assurance made Phoebe's heart chill with fear. For a moment she was speechless with horror and indignation. Taking her silence as a favourable indication, Hyrum drew near her, and once more tried to find her hands in the darkness. I've always liked you, Phoebe, he said insinuatingly. Don't you like me? No, no, no! almost screamed Phoebe, snatching her hands away. Don't ever dare to think of such a thing again! Then she turned and vanished in the dark like a wreath of mist, leaving the crestfallen Hyrum alone, feeling very foolish and not a little astonished. He had not expected his suit to be met quite in this way. Phoebe, is that you? called Emeline's metallic voice, as she lifted her sharp eyes to peer into the darkness of the entry. Albert, I wonder if Hyrum went the wrong way and missed her? But Phoebe, keen of instinct, light of foot, drifted like a breath past the door, and was up in her room before Emeline decided whether she had heard anything or not, and Albert went on reading his paper. Phoebe sat alone in her little kitchen chamber, with the button on the door fastened, and faced the situation, looking out into the night. She kept very still that Emeline might not know she was there. She almost held her breath for a time, for it seemed as if Hyrum had so much assurance that he almost had the power to draw her from her room against her will. Her indignation and fear were beyond all possible need of the occasion. Yet every time she thought of the hateful sound of his voice as he made his cold-blooded proposition, the fierce anger boiled within her, so that she wished over and over again that she might have another opportunity to answer him and make her refusal more emphatic. Yet, when she thought of it, what could she say more than no? Great waves of hate surged through her soul for the men who had treated one woman so that she was glad to die, and now wanted to take her life and crush it out. With the intensity of a very young girl she took up the cause of the dead Annie and felt like fighting for her memory. By and by she heard Albert and Emeline shutting up the house for the night. Hyrum did not come back as she feared he might. He half started to come, then thought better of it, and felt his way through the orchard to the other fence, and climbed lumberingly over it into the road. His self-love had been wounded, and he did not care to appear before his neighbors to-night. Moreover, he felt a little dazed and wanted to think things over and adjust himself to Phoebe's point of view. He felt a half-resentment toward the deans for Phoebe's actions, as if the rebuff she had given him had been their fault somehow. They should have prepared her better. They understood the situation fully. There had often been an interchange of remarks between them on the subject, and Albert had responded by a nod and wink. It was tacitly understood that it would be a good thing to have the farms join and keep them all in the family. Emeline, too, had often given some practical hints about Phoebe's capabilities as a housewife and mother to his wild little children. It was Emeline who had given the hint to-night as to Phoebe's hiding place. He began to feel as if Emeline had somehow tricked him. He resolved to stay away from the deans for a long time, perhaps a week, or at any rate two or three days, certainly one day at least. Then he began to wonder if perhaps after all Phoebe was not just flirting with him. Surely she could not refuse him an earnest. His farm was as pretty as any in the country, and everyone knew he had money in the bank. Surely Phoebe was only being coy for a time. After all, perhaps it was natural for a girl to be a little shy. It was a way they had, and if it pleased them to hold off a little, why it showed that they would be all the more sensible afterward. Now Annie had always been a great one for sweet speeches. Soft soap he had designated it after their marriage. Perhaps he ought to have made a little more palaver about it to Phoebe, and not have frightened her. But, Poo, it was a good sign. A bad beginning made a good ending generally. Maybe it was a good thing that Phoebe wasn't just ready to fall into his arms the minute he asked her. Then she wouldn't be always bothering around, clinging to him and sobbing in that maddening way that Annie had. By the time he had reached home he had reasoned himself into complacence again, and was pretty well satisfied with himself. As he closed the kitchen door he reflected that perhaps he might fix things up a bit about the house in view of a new mistress. That would probably please Phoebe, and he certainly did need a wife. Then Hyrum went to bed and slept soundly. Amaline came to Phoebe's door before she went to bed, calling softly, Phoebe, are you in there? And tapping on the door two or three times. When no answer came from the breathless girl in the dark behind the buttoned door, Amaline lifted the latch and tried to open the door, but when she found it resisted her she turned away and said to Albert in a fretful tone, I suppose she's sound asleep, but I don't see what call she has to fasten her door every night. It looks so unsociable as if she was afraid we weren't to be trusted. I wonder you don't speak to her about it. But Albert only yawned goodnaturally and said, I don't see how it hurts you any. It hurts my self-respect, said Amaline in an injured tone as she shut her own door with a click. Far into the night sat Phoebe, looking out of the window on the world which she loved, but could not enjoy any more. The storm of rage and shame and hatred passed and left her weak and miserable and lonely.  The symphony of the night wailed on about her as if echoing her cry in sobbing, throbbing chords, Growing fainter as the moon arose with now and then a hint of a theme of comfort until there came a sudden hush. Then, softly, tenderly, the music changed into the night's lullaby. All the world slept, and Phoebe slept too. CHAPTER II Phoebe was late coming downstairs the next morning. Amaline was already in the kitchen rattling the pots and pans significantly. Amaline always did that when Phoebe was late, as her room was directly over the kitchen, and the degree of her displeasure could be plainly heard. She looked up sharply as Phoebe entered and eyed the girl keenly. There were dark circles under Phoebe's eyes, but otherwise her spirits had arisen with the morning light, and she almost wondered at the fear that had possessed her the night before. She felt only scorned now for Hyrum Green, and was ready to protect herself. She went straight at her work without a word. Amaline had long ago expressed herself with regard to the good morning with which the child Phoebe used to greet her when she came down in the morning.  It was all of a peace with dressing up at home with no one to see you and curling your hair. This with a meaning look at Phoebe's bright waves. Amaline's light, fading hair, was straight as a dye. They worked in silence. The bacon was spluttering to the eggs, and Phoebe was taking up the mush when Amaline asked, Didn't Hyrum find you last night? She cast one of her sideways searching looks at the girl as if she would look her through and through. Phoebe started and dropped the spoon back into the mush where it sank with a sigh in a mutter. There was something enlightening in Amaline's tone. Phoebe saw it at once. The family had been aware of Hyrum's intention. Her eyes flashed one spark of anger, then she turned abruptly back to the kettle and went on with her work. Yes, she said inscrutably. Amaline was always irritated at the difficulty with which she found out anything from Phoebe. Well, I didn't hear you come in," she complained. You must have been out a long time. Wary Amaline, she had touched the spring that opened the secret. I wasn't out five minutes in all. You don't say," said Amaline in surprise. Why, I thought you said Hyrum found you. Phoebe put the cover on the dish of mush and set it on the table before she dained any reply. Then she came over and stood beside Amaline calmly and spoke in a cool, clear voice. Amaline, did Hyrum Green tell you what he was coming out to the orchard for last night? For mercy's sake, Phoebe, don't put on heroics. I'm not blind, I hope. One couldn't very well help seeing what Hyrum Green wants. Did you think you were the only member of the family with eyes? When Amaline looked up from cutting the bread at the conclusion of these remarks she was startled to see Phoebe's face. It was as white as marble even to the lips, and her great beautiful eyes shone like two luminous stars. Amaline, did you and Albert know what Hyrum Green wanted of me, and did you let him come out there to find me after you knew that? Her voice was very calm and low. It reminded one of some coolly flowing river with unknown depths in its shadowed bosom. Amaline was odd by it for a moment. She laid down the bread knife and stood and stared.  That she was rarely beautiful her family had never noticed, though sometimes Albert liked to watch her as she sat sewing. She seemed to him a pleasant thing to have around, like a bright posy bed. Amaline thought her too frail looking in pale. But for the moment the delicate girl was transformed. Her face shone with a light of righteous anger, and her eyes blazed dark with feeling. Two spots of lovely rose-colour glowed upon her cheeks. The morning sun had just reached the south window by the table where Amaline had been cutting bread, and it laid its golden fingers over the bright waves of brown hair in a halo round her head, as if the sun would sanction her righteous wrath. She looked like some beautiful, injured saint, and before the intensity of the maidens' emotion her sister-in-law fairly quailed. For the land, Phoebe, now don't, said Amaline in a tone conciliatory. What if I did know? Was that any sin? You must remember your brother and I are looking to your best interests, and Hyrum is considered a real fine catch. Slowly Phoebe's righteous wrath sank again into her heart. The fire went out of her eyes, and in its place came ice that seemed to pierce Amaline till she felt like shrinking away. You're the queerest girl I ever saw, said Amaline, fretfully restive under Phoebe's gaze. What's the matter with you? Don't you ever expect to have any bows? Phoebe shivered as if a north blast had struck her at that last word. Did you mean then, she said coldly, in a voice that sounded as if it came from very far away, that you thought I would ever be willing to marry Hyrum Green? Did you and Albert talk it over and think that? Amaline found it hard to answer the question, put in a tone which seemed to imply a great offence. Phoebe lived on a plane far too high for Amaline to even try to understand without a great effort. The effort, we read her. Well, I should like to know why you shouldn't marry him! declared Amaline impatiently. There's plenty of girls would be glad to get him. Amaline glanced hurriedly out of the window and saw Albert and the hired man coming to breakfast. It was time the children were down. Alma came lagging into the kitchen, asking to have her frock buttoned, and Johnny and Bertie were heard scuffling in the room's overhead. There was no time for further conversation.  Amaline, how can you possibly be so unkind as to think such a thing for me when you know how Annie suffered? Oh, fiddle-sticks! said Amaline, shoving the girl away roughly. Annie was a milk and water baby who wanted to be coddled. The right woman could wind highroom green round her little finger.  Annie's dead and gone, and you've no need to trouble with her. Come, put the things on the table while I button Alma. I'm sure there never was as silly a girl as you are in this world. Anybody to think you was a princess in disguise, instead of a poor orphan dependent on her brother, and he only a half at that? With which parting shot Amaline slammed the kitchen door and called to the two little boys in a loud, harsh tone. The crimson rose in Phoebe's cheeks till it covered face and neck in a sweet, shamed tide, and threatened to bring the tears into her eyes. Her very soul seemed wrenched from its moorings at the cruel reminder of her dependence upon the bounty of this coarse woman and her husband. Phoebe felt as if she must leave the house at once, never to return, only there was no place, no place in this wide world for her to go. Then Albert appeared in the kitchen door with the hired man behind him, and the sense of her duty made her turn to work, that old-blessed refuge for those who are turned out of their bits of eatons for a time. She hurried to take up the breakfast, while the two men washed their faces at the pump and dried them on the long roller-towel that hung from the inside of the door. Hello, Phoebe, called Albert as he turned to surrender his place at the comb and the looking glass. I say, Phoebe, you're looking like a rose this morning. What makes your cheeks so red? Anybody been kissing you this early? This pleasantry was intended as a joke. Albert had never said anything of the sort to her before. She felt instinctively that Emeline had been putting ideas about her and Hiram into his head. It almost brought the tears to have Albert speak in this way. He was so uniformly kind to her and treated her as if she were still almost a child. She hated jokes of this sort, and it was all the worse because of the presence of Alma and the hired man. Alma grinned knowingly and went over where she could look into Phoebe's face. Henry Williams, with the freedom born of his own social equality, he being the son of a neighboring farmer who had hired himself out for the season as there were more brothers at home than were needed, turned and stared admiringly at Phoebe. Say, Phoebe, put in Henry, you do look real pretty this morning now if I do say it. I never noticed before how handsome your eyes were. What's that you said about kissing, Albert? I wouldn't mind taking the job if it's going. How about it, Phoebe? Pleasantry of this sort was common in the neighborhood, but Phoebe had never joined in it, and she had always looked upon it as unrefined and a form of amusement that her mother would not have liked. Now when it was directed toward her, and she realized that it trifled with the most sacred and personal relations of life, it filled her with horror. Please don't, Albert. She said, with trembling lips in a low voice. Don't, I don't like it. And Alma saw with wonder and gloated over the fact that there were tears in Aunt Phoebe's eyes. That would be something to remember and tell. Aunt Phoebe usually kept her emotions to herself with the door shut too tight for Alma to peep in. Not, asked Albert, perplexed. Well, of course I won't if you don't like it.  Sit down, child, and let's have breakfast. Where's your mother, Alma? Emmeline entered with a flushed face and a couple of cowed and dejected small boys held firmly by the shoulders. Somewhat comforted by Albert's assurance, Phoebe was able to finish her work and sit down at the table. But although she busied herself industriously by putting on the baby's bib, spreading Johnny's bread, handing Alma the syrup jug, and preventing her from emptying its entire contents over her personal breakfast, inside and out, she ate nothing herself. For every time she raised her eyes, she found a battalion of other eyes staring at her. Emmeline was looking her through in puzzled annoyance and chagrin, taking in the fact that her well-planned matchmaking was not running as smoothly as had been expected. Albert was studying her in the astonishing discovery that the thin, sad little half-sister he had brought into his home, who had seemed so lifeless and colorless and unlike the bouncing pretty girls of the neighborhood, had suddenly become beautiful and was almost a woman. Several times he opened his mouth to say this in the bosom of his family, and then the dignified poise of the lovely head, or something in the stately set of the small shoulders, or a pleading look in the large soft eyes raised to him held him quiet, and his own eyes tried to tell her again that he would not say it if she did not like it. Alma was staring at her between mouthfuls of mush and thinking how she would tell about those tears and how perhaps she would taunt Aunt Phoebe with them some time when she tried to boss when Ma was out to a sowing bee. Eh! I saw you cry once, Aunt Phoebe! Eh! Right before folks! Eh! Cry, baby! You had great big tears in your eyes when my paw teased you! I saw them! Eh! Eh! Eh! Eh! How would that sound? Alma felt the roll of the taunt now and wished it were time to try it. She knew she could make Aunt Phoebe writhe some time, and that was what she had always wanted to do, for Aunt Phoebe was always discovering her best-laid plans and revealing them to Emmeline, and Alma longed sorely for revenge. But the worst pair of eyes of all were those of Henry Williams, bold and intimate, who sat directly opposite her. He seemed to feel that the way had been opened to him by Albert Dean's words, and was only waiting his opportunity to enter in. He had been admiring Phoebe ever since he came there, early in the spring, and wondering that no one seemed to think her of much account, but somehow her quiet dignity had always kept him at a distance. But now he felt he was justified in making more free with her. Did you hear that singing school was going to open early this fall, Phoebe? He said, after many clearings of his throat. No, said Phoebe without looking up. It was rather disappointing to him, for it had taken him a long time to think up that subject, and it was too much to have it disposed of so quickly without even a glimpse of her eyes. Do you usually tend? He asked again, after a pause filled in by Alma and the little boys, in a squabble for the last scrap of mush and molasses. No, said Phoebe again, her eyes still down. Phoebe don't go because there wasn't anyone for her to come home with before Hank, but I guess there'll be plenty now, said Emma Lyne, with a meaningful laugh. Yes, said Phoebe, now looking up calmly without a flicker of the anger she was feeling. Hester McVane and Polly said they were going this winter. If I decide to go, I'm going with them. Emma Lyne, if you're going to dry those apples today, I'd better begin them. Excuse me, please. You haven't eaten any breakfast, Aunt Phoebe. Ma, Aunt Phoebe never touched a bite! announced Alma gleefully. I'm not hungry this morning, said Phoebe truthfully, and went in triumph from the room, having baffled the gaze of the man and the child, and rested the dart from her sister-in-law's arrow. It was hard on the man, for he had decided to ask Phoebe if she would go to singing school with him. He had been a long time making up his mind as to whether he wouldn't rather ask Harriet Woodgate, but now he had decided on Phoebe he did not like to be balked in the asking. He sought her out in the woodshed where she sat and gave his invitation, but she only made her white fingers fly the faster round the apple she was peeling as she answered, Thank you, it won't be necessary for you to go with me if I decide to go. Then as she perceived by his prolonged, that he was about to urge his case, she rose hastily exclaiming, Emeline, did you call me, I'm coming! And vanished into the kitchen. The hired man looked after her wistfully and wondered if he had not better ask Harriet Woodgate after all. Phoebe was not a weeping girl. Ever since her mother died she had lived a life of self-repression, hiding her inmost feelings from the world, for her world since then had not proved to be a sympathetic one. When annoyances came she buried them in her heart and grieved over them in silence, for she quickly perceived that there was no one in this new atmosphere who would understand her sensitive nature. Refinements and culture had been hers that these new relatives did not know nor understand.  She looked at Albert wistfully sometimes, for she felt if it were not for Emeline she might perhaps in time make him understand and change a little in some ways. But Emeline resented any suggestions she made to Albert, especially when he good-naturedly tried to please her. Emeline resented almost everything about Phoebe. She had resented her coming in the first place. Albert was grown up and living away from home when his father married Phoebe's mother, a delicate refined woman, far different from himself. Emeline felt that Albert had no call to take the child in at all for her to bring up when she was not a real relation. Besides, Emeline had an older sister of her own who would have been glad to come and live with them and help with the work, but of course there was no room nor excuse for her with Phoebe there, and they could not afford to have them both, though Albert was ready to take in any stray chick or child that came along. It was only Emeline's forbidding attitude that kept him from adopting all the lonely creatures, be they animal or human, that appealed to his sympathy. There were a great many nice points about Albert, and Phoebe recognized them gratefully, the more as she grew older, though he would come to the table in his shirt sleeves and eat his pie with his knife. But in spite of her nature, this morning Phoebe had much a do to keep from crying. The annoyances increased as the day grew, and if it had not been for her work, she would have felt desperate. As it was, she kept steadily at it, conquering everything that came in her way. The apples fairly flew out of their coats into the pan, and Emeline, glancing into the back shed, noting the set of the forbidding young shoulders and the undaunted tilt of the head, also the fast diminishing pile of apples on the floor and the multiplying quarters in the pans, forbore to disturb her. Emeline was far-seeing, and she was anxious to have those apples off her mind. With Phoebe in that mood, she knew it would be done before she could possibly get around to help. There was time enough for remarks later. Meantime perhaps it was just as well to let my lady alone until she came to her senses a little. The old stone sundial by the side door shadowed the hour of eleven, and the apples were almost gone from the pile on the floor, when Emeline came into the back shed with a knife and sat down to help. She looked at Phoebe sharply as she seated herself with a show of finishing things up in a hurry. But she intended, and Phoebe knew she did, to have it out with the girl before her. Phoebe did not help her to begin. Her fingers flew faster than ever, though they ached with the motion, and the juicy knife against her sensitive skin made every nerve cry out to be released. With set lips she went on with her work, though she longed to fling the apple away and run out to the fields for a long deep breath. Emeline had paired two whole apples before she began, in a conciliatory tone. She had eyed Phoebe furtively several times, but the girl might have been a sphinx or some lovely mountain wrapped about with mist for all she could read of her mood. This was what Emeline could not stand, this distant, proud silence that would not mix with other folk. She longed to break through it by force and reduce the pride to the dust. It would do her heart good to see Phoebe humbled for once, she often told herself. Phoebe, I don't see what you can find to dislike so in Hyrum Green. She began. He's a good man. He always attends church on Sundays. I would respect him more if he was a good man in his home on weekdays. Anybody can be good once a week before people. A man needs to be good at home in his family. Well, now he provides well for his family. Look at his comfortable home and his farm. There isn't a finer in this county. He has his name up all around this region for the fine stock he raises. You can't find a barn like his anywhere. It's the biggest and most expensive in the town. He certainly has a fine barn, said Phoebe. But I don't suppose he expects his family to live in it. He takes better care of his stock than he does of his family. Look at the house. Phoebe's eyes waxed scornful and emeline marveled. She was brought up to think a barn, a most important feature of one's possessions. His house is a way back from the road out of sight, went on Phoebe. Annie used to hunger for a sight of people going by on the road when she sat down to sow in the afternoon. But there was that great barn right out on the road and straight in front of the house. He ought to have put the barn back of the house.  He ought to have built Annie a pleasant home up on that lovely little knoll of maples where she could have seen out and down the road and have had a little company now and then. She might have been alive today if she had one half the care and attention that Hiram gave the stock. Phoebe's words were bitter and vehement. It sounds dreadful silly for a girl of your age to be talking like that. You don't know anything about Annie, and if I was you I wouldn't think about her. As for the barn, I should think a wife would be proud to have her husband's barn the nicest one in the county. Of course the barn had to have the best place. That's his business. I declare you do have the queerest notions. Nevertheless she set it down in her mind that she would give Hiram a hint about the house. Phoebe did not reply. She was peeling the last apple, and as soon as it lay meekly in quarters with the rest she shoved back her chair and left the room. Emeline felt that she had failed again to make any impression on her sister-in-law. It maddened her almost to distraction to have a girl like that around her. A girl who thought everything beneath her and who criticized the customs of the entire neighborhood. She was an annoyance and a reproach. Emeline felt that she would like to get rid of her if it could be done in a legitimate way. At dinner Henry Williams looked at Phoebe meaningly and asked if she made the pie. Phoebe had to own that she did.  Betsy Green says she thinks her pie is going to get her a new ma. She remarked knowingly when the laugh had subsided, and Betsy says she bet she knows who tis too. You shut up, remarked Emeline to her offspring in a low tone, giving Alma a dig under the table. But Phoebe hastily drew back her chair and fled from the table. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence after Phoebe left the room. Emeline felt that things had gone too far. Albert asked what was the matter with Phoebe, but instead of answering him, Emeline yanked Alma from the table and out into the woodshed, where a whispered scolding was administered as a sort of obligato solo to the accompaniment of some stinging cuts from a little switch that hung conveniently on the wall. Alma returned to the table, chastened outwardly, but inwardly vowing vengeance on her aunt, her anger in no wise softened by the disappearance of her piece of pie with birdie. Her mother told her she deserved to lose her pie, and she determined to get even with Aunt Phoebe, even if another switching happened. Phoebe had not come downstairs again that afternoon. Emeline hesitated about sending for her, and finally decided to wait until she came. The unwilling Alma was pressed into service to dry the dishes, and the long yellow sunny afternoon dragged drowsily on, while Phoebe lay upon her bed up in her kitchen chamber, and pressed her aching eyeballs hard with her cold fingers, wondering why so many tortures were coming to her all at once. Hyrum Green kept his word to himself and did not go to see Phoebe for two evenings. By that time Emeline had begun to wonder what in the world Phoebe had said to him to keep him away when he seemed so anxious to get her, and Phoebe, with the hopefulness of youth, had decided that her trouble in that direction was over. But the third evening he arrived promptly, attired with unusual care, and asked Emeline if he might see Phoebe alone. It happened that Phoebe had finished her work in the kitchen and gone up to rock the baby to sleep. Emeline swept the younger children out of the sitting-room with alacrity, and called Albert sharply to help her with something in the kitchen, sending Alma up at once with a carefully worded message to Phoebe. Emeline was relieved to see Hyrum again. She knew by his face that he meant business this time, and she hoped to see Phoebe conquered at once. Ma says you please. The word sounded strangely on Alma's unloving lips. Come down to the sitting-room now, to once, she added. The baby was just dropping asleep and roused of course at Alma's boisterous tone. Phoebe nodded and shoved the child from the room, keeping the cradle going all the time.   The baby gave a crow of glee and a rose to the occasion in his cradle, but Phoebe resolutely disregarded the call below, and went on rocking until the little restless head was still on its pillow again. Then she stole softly down to the sitting-room, her eyes blinded by the darkness where she had been sitting, and explained quietly as she entered the room. I couldn't come sooner, Alma woke the baby again. Hyrum, quite mollified by the gentle tone of explanation, arose, blandly answering, Oh, that's all right, I'm glad to see you now you're here, and went forward with the evident intention of taking both her hands in his. Phoebe rubbed her blinded eyes and looked up in horror, knowing Alma stood behind the crack of the door and watched it all with wicked joy. I beg your pardon, Mr. Green, I thought Emmeline was in here. She sent for me. Excuse me, I must find her. Oh, that's all right, said Hyrum easily, putting out his hand and shutting the door sharply in Alma's impudent face, thereby almost pinching her inquisitive nose in the crack. She don't expect you, Emmeline, don't. She's sent for you to see me. I asked her could I see you alone. She understands all about us, Emmeline does. She won't come in here for a while. She knows I want to talk to you. Cold chills swept down Phoebe's nerves and froze her heart and fingertips. Had the horror returned upon her with redoubled vigour and with her family behind it? Where was Albert? Would he not help her? Then she realized that she must help herself and at once, for it was evident that Hyrum Green meant to press his suit energetically. He was coming towards her with his hateful, confident smile. He stood between her and the door of retreat. Besides, what good would it do to run away? She had tried that once and it did not work. She must speak to him decidedly and end the matter. She summoned all her dignity and courage and backed over to the other side of the room where a single chair stood.  She said, trying to get the tremble out of her voice. Why, yes I will. Let's sit right here together. He said, sitting down at one end of the couch and making room for her. Come, you sit here beside me, Phoebe, and then we can talk better. It's more sociable. Phoebe sat down on the chair opposite him. I would rather sit here, Mr. Green, she said. Well, of course, if you'd rather, he said reluctantly. But it seems to be kind of unsociable. And say, Phoebe, I wish you wouldn't Mr. Me anymore. Can't you call me Hyrum? I would rather not. Say, Phoebe, that sounds real unfriendly. Blamed Hyrum, in a tone which suggested he would not be trifled with much longer. Did you wish to speak to me, Mr. Green? said Phoebe, her clear eyes looking at him steadily over the candlelight with the bearing of a queen. Well, yes, he said, straightening up and hitching a chair around to the side nearer to her. I thought we'd better talk that matter over a little that I was mentioning to you several nights ago. I don't think that is necessary, Mr. Green, answered Phoebe quickly. I thought I made you understand that that was impossible. Oh, I don't take account of what you said that night, said Hyrum. I saw you was sort of upset, not expecting me out there in the dark, so I thought I'd better come round again after you had plenty chance to think over what I said. I couldn't say anything different if I thought over it a thousand years, declared Phoebe with characteristic emphasis. Hyrum Green was not thin-skinned and did not need saving. It was just as well to tell the truth and be done with it. But the fellow was in no wise daunted. He rather admired Phoebe the more for her vehemence, for here was a prize that promised to be worth his winning. For the first time as he looked at her he felt his blood stir with a sense of pleasure such as one feels in a well-matched race where one is yet sure of winning. Ah, get out! scouted Hyrum pleasantly. That ain't the way to talk. Of course you are young yet and ain't had much experience, but you certainly had time enough to consider the matter all this year I've been coming to see you. Phoebe arose with two red spots burning on her cheeks. Coming to see me, she gasped. You didn't come to see me. Ah, get out now Phoebe. You needn't pretend you don't know I was coming to see you. Who did you suppose I was coming to see then? I supposed of course you were coming to see Albert, said Phoebe, her voice settling into that deep calm that betokened she was overwhelmed. Albert? You supposed I was coming to see Albert every night. Ah, yes, you did a whole lot.  You must have thought I was getting fond of Albert. I did not think anything about it, said Phoebe, hodlily. And you may be sure, Mr. Green, if I had dreamed of such a thing I would have told you it was useless. There was something in her tone and manner that ruffled the self-assurance of Hyrum Green. Up to this minute he had persuaded himself that Phoebe was but acting the part of a coy and modest maiden, who wished to pretend that she never dreamed that he was courting her. Now a suspicion began to glimmer in his consciousness that perhaps, after all, she was honest and had not suspected his attentions. Could it be possible that she did not care for them and really wished to dismiss him? Hyrum could not credit such a thought, yet as he looked at the firm set of her lips he was bewildered. What on earth makes you keep saying that? he asked in an irritated tone. What's your reason for not wanting to marry me? There are so many reasons that I wouldn't know where to begin. Answered the girl shortly. Hyrum gave his shoulders a little shake as if to rouse himself. Had he heard her words aright? What reasons? He growled frowning. He began to feel that Phoebe was trifling with him. He would make her understand that he would not endure much of that. Phoebe looked troubled. She wished he would not insist on further talk, but she was too honest and too angry not to tell the exact truth. The first and greatest reason of all is that I do not love you and never could. She said vehemently, looking him straight in the eyes. Shocks! said Hyrum, laughing. I don't mind that a mite. In fact, I think it's an advantage. Folks mostly get over it when they do feel that sentimental kind of way. It don't last but a few weeks anyhow, and it's better to begin on a practical basis, I think. That was the trouble with Annie. She was so blamed sentimental, she hadn't time to get dinner. I think you and I'd get along much better.  We could make things real prosperous over to the farm. Phoebe arose quickly and interrupted him. Mr. Green, you must please stop talking this way. It is horrible. I don't want to listen to any more of it. You set down, Phoebe, commanded Hyrum. I've got some things to tell you. It ain't worthwhile for you to act foolish. I mean business. I want to get married. It's high time there was somebody to see to things at home, but I can wait a little while if you're wanting to get ready more. Only don't be long about it. As I said, I don't mind about the love part. That'll come all right. And you remember, Phoebe, if I do say so as shouldn't. There's plenty of girls round here that would be glad to marry me if they got the chance. Then by all means let them marry you, said Phoebe grandly, steadying her trembling limbs for flight. I shall never, never marry you. Good night, Mr. Green. She swept him a ceremonious bit of courtesy at the door, like a flutter of wings as a bird takes a fright, and was gone before he fully took it in. He reached out detaining hands towards her in protest, but it was too late. The latch clicked behind her, and he could hear the soft stir of her garments on the stairs. She had fled to her room. He heard the button on her door creak and turn. He unfolded his lank limbs from their comfortable pose around the legs of the chair, and went after her as far as the door, but the stairway was quiet and dark. He could hear Albert and Emmeline in the kitchen. He stood a moment in puzzled chagrin, going over his interview and trying to make it all out. What mistake had he made? He had failed, that was certain. It was a new experience, and one that angered him, but somehow the anger was numbed by the remembrance of the look of the girl's eyes, the dainty movements of her hands, the set of her shapely head. He did not know that he was fascinated by her beauty. He only knew that a dogged determination to have her for his own, in spite of everything, was settling down upon him. Albert and Emmeline were conversing in low tones in the kitchen, when the door was flung open, and Hiram Green stepped in. His brow dark, his eyes sullen. He felt that Emmeline owed him some explanation of Phoebe's behaviour. He had come for it. I can't make her out. He muttered, as he flung himself into a kitchen chair. She's just for all the world like a wild cold. When you think you have her, she gives you the slip, and is off further away than when you begun. I think maybe if I had her where she couldn't get away, I'd be able to find out the difficulty. Better take her out riding, suggested Albert slyly, and drive fast. She couldn't get out very well then. I ain't so sure, growled Hiram. The way she looked, she might jump over a precipice. What's the matter with her, anyway? Turning to Emmeline, as though she were responsible for the whole of womankind. Is there anybody else? She ain't got in with Hank Williams, has she? She won't look at him, declared Emmeline positively. He tried to get to go to sing-in school with her just today, and she shut him off short. What reason did she give you? She spoke about not having proper affection. He answered diffidently. But if I was dead sure that was the whole trouble, I think I could fix her up. I'd like to get things settled for winter comes on. I can't afford to waste time like this. I think I know what's the matter of her, said Emmeline mysteriously. She isn't such a fool as to give up a good chance in life for reasons of affection, though it is mighty high-sounding to say so. But there's something back of it all. I shouldn't wonder, Hiram, if she's trying you, to see if you want her enough to fix things handy the way she'd like them. What do you mean? asked Hiram gruffly, showing sudden interest. Has she spoke of anything to you? Well, she did let on that your house was too far back from the street to be pleasant, and she seemed to think the barn had the best situation. She spoke about the knoll being a good place for a house. Hiram brightened. If Phoebe had taken interest in his affairs to say all this, surely she was not so indifferent after all. You don't say, said Hiram meditatively. When did she say that? Just today, Emmeline answered. Well, if that's the hitch, why didn't she say so? She didn't seem shy. Maybe she was waiting for you to ask her what she wanted. Well, she didn't wait long. She lit out before I had a chance to half-talk things over. She's young yet, you know, said Emmeline in a soothing tone. Young folks take queer notions. I shouldn't wonder, but she hates to go to that house and live way back from the road that way. She ain't much more than a child, anyway, in some things, though she's first class to work. Well, said Hiram reluctantly. I've been thinking the house needed fixing up some. I don't know as I should object to building all new. The old house would come in handy for the men. Bill would like to have his ma come and keep house right well. It would help me out in one way, for Bill is getting uneasy, and I'd rather spare any man I've got than Bill. He works so steady and good. Say, you might mention to Phoebe, if you like, that I'm thinking of building a new house. Say I'd thought of the knoll for a location. Think that would ease her up a little? All right, I'll see what can be done, said Emmeline, importantly. The atmosphere of the kitchen brightened cheerfully as if extra candles had been brought in. Hiram, with the air of having settled to his satisfaction a troublesome bit of business, lighted his pipe and tilted his chair back in his accustomed fashion, entering into a brisk discussion of politics while Emmeline set the sponge for bread. Emmeline was going over the line of argument with which she intended to plie Phoebe the next day. She felt triumphant over her. Not every woman and matchmaker would have had the grit to tell Hiram just what was wanted. Emmeline felt that she had been entrusted with a commission worthy of her best efforts, and surely Phoebe would listen now. Up in her kitchen chamber the hum of their conversation came to Phoebe as she sat with burning cheeks looking widely into the darkness. She did not hear the nightly symphony as it sang on all about the house. She was thinking of what she had been through and wondering if she had finally freed herself from the hateful attentions of Hiram Green. Would he take her answer as final or not? She thought not, judging from his nature. He was one of those men who never gave up what they have set themselves to get, be it sunny pasture lot, young heifer, or pretty wife. She shuddered at the thought of many more encounters such as she had passed through to-night. It was all dreadful to her. It touched a side of life that jarred her inexpressibly. It made the world seem an intolerable place to her. She felt a wondering what her life would have been if her mother had lived. A quiet little home, of course, plain and sweet and cozy, with plenty of hard work, but always someone to sympathize. Her frail little mother had not been able to stand the rough world and the hard work. But she had left behind her a memory of gentleness and refinement that could never be wholly crushed out of her young daughter's heart, no matter how much she came in contact with the coarse, rude world. Often the girl in her silent meditations would take her mother into her thoughts and tell her all that had passed in her life that day. But to-night she felt that were her mother here, and helpless to help her, she could not bear to tell her of this torturing experience through which she was passing. She knew instinctively that a living mother such as hers had been would shrink with horror from the thought of seeing her child united to a man like Hiram Green, would rather see her dead than married to him. Somehow she could not get the comfort from thinking of her mother to-night that she usually could. She wanted some close, tangible help, someone all wise and powerful, someone that could tell what life meant, and what God meant her particular life to be, and make her sure she was right in her fierce recoil from what life now seemed to be offering. She felt sure she was right, yet she wanted another to say so also, to take her part against the world that was troubling her. There were perhaps people who could do that for her if she only dared to go to them, but what would they think? Her young pride arose and bore her up. She must tell nobody but God. And so thinking she knelt timidly down and tried to pour out her proud, hurt spirit in a prayer. She had always prayed, but had never felt that it meant anything to her until to-night. And when she arose, not knowing what she had asked, nor indeed if she had asked anything for herself, she yet felt stronger to face her life, which somehow stretched out ahead in one blank of monotonous tortures. Meantime the man who desired to have her, and the woman who desired to have him have her, were forming their plans for a regular campaign against her. 4. It was the first day of October and it was Phoebe's birthday. The sun shone clear and high, the sky overhead was a dazzling blue, and the air was good to breathe. Off in the distance a blue haze lay softly over the horizon, mingling the crimsons and golds of the autumn foliage with the fading greens. It was a perfect day, and Phoebe was out in it. 5. She walked rapidly and with a purpose, as though it did her good to push the road back under her impatient feet. She was not walking towards the village, but out into the open country, past the farm, where presently the road turned and skirted a maple grove. But she did not pause here, though she dearly loved the crimson maple leaves that carpeted the ground alluringly. On she went, as though her only object was to get away, as though she would like to run if there were not danger she might be seen. A farm wagon was coming. She strained her eyes ahead to see who was driving. If it should happen to be Hank, and he should stop to talk. Oh! she put her hand on her heart and hurried forward, for she could not go back. She wished she had worn her son bonnet, for then she might hide her in its depths. But her coming away had been too sudden for that. She had merely untied her large apron and flung it from her as she started. Even now she knew not whether it hung upon the chair where she had been sitting shelling dried beans, or whether it adorned the rose-bush by the kitchen door. She had not looked back to see and did not care. No one knew it was her birthday, or if they knew they had not remembered. Perhaps that made it harder to stay and shell beans and bear Amaline's talk. Matters had been going on in much the way they had gone all summer, that is outwardly. Hyrum Green had spent the evenings regularly talking with Albert, while Amaline darned stockings and Phoebe escaped upstairs when she could, and so'd with her back turned to the guest when she could not. Phoebe had taken diligent care that Hyrum should have no more tetatets with her, even at the expense of having to spend many evenings in her dark room when all outdoors was calling her with the tender lovely sounds of the dying summer. Grimly and silently she went through the days of work. Amaline, since the morning she attempted to discuss Hyrum's proposed new house, and found Phoebe utterly unresponsive, had held her peace. Not that she was by any means vanquished, but as she made so little headway in talking to the girl she concluded that it would be well to let her alone a while. In fact, Albert had advised that line of action in his easy kindly way, and Amaline, partly because she did not know how else to move her sister-in-law, shut her lips and went around with an air of offended dignity. She spoke disagreeably whenever it was necessary to speak at all to Phoebe, and whenever the girl came downstairs in other than her working garments, she looked her disapproval in unspeakable volumes. Phoebe went about her daily routine without noticing, much as a bird mite whose plumage was being criticised. She could not help putting herself in dainty array, even though the materials at hand might be only a hairbrush and a bit of ribbon.  It was all hateful to Amaline, impudent, she styled it, in speaking to herself. She had tried the phrase once in a confidence to Albert, for Phoebe was only a half sister, why should Albert care? But somehow Albert had not understood. He had almost resented it. He said he thought Phoebe always looked real neat and pretty, and he liked to see her around. This had fired Amaline's jealousy, although she would not have owned it. Albert made so many remarks of this sort that Amaline felt they would spoil his sister and make her unbearable to live with. Albert used to talk like that to her when they were first married, but she told him it was silly for married people to say such things, and he never gave her any more compliments. She had not missed them herself, but it was another thing to find him speaking that way about his sister, so foolish for a grown-up man to care about looks. But Amaline continued to meditate upon Phoebe's impudent attire, until this afternoon of her birthday the thoughts had culminated in words. Phoebe had gone upstairs after the dinner work was done, and had come down a raid in a gown that Amaline had never seen. It was of soft buff merino, trimmed with narrow lines of brown velvet ribbon, and a bit of the same velvet around the white throat held a small plain gold locket that nestled in the white hollow of Phoebe's neck as if it loved to be there. The brown hair was dressed in its usual way except for a knot of brown velvet. It was a simple girlish costume, and Phoebe wore it with the same easy grace she wore her home-spun, which made it doubly annoying to Amaline, who felt that Phoebe had no right to act as if she were doing nothing unusual. Years ago, when the child Phoebe had come to live with them, she had brought with her some boxes and trunks, and a few pieces of furniture for her own room. They were things of her mother's which she wished to keep. Amaline had gone carefully over the collection with ruthless hand and critical tongue, casting out what she considered useless, laying aside what she considered unfit for present use, and freely commenting upon all she saw. Phoebe, fresh from her mother's grave, and the memory of that mother's living words, had stood by in stony silence, holding back by main force the angry tears that tried to get their way, and letting none of the storm of passion that surged through her heart be seen. But when Amaline had reached the large hair-covered trunk and demanded the key, Phoebe had quietly dropped the string that held it round her neck inside her dress, where it lay cold against her little sorrowful heart, and answered decidedly, You needn't open that, Amaline. It holds my mother's dresses that she has put away for me when I grow up. Nonsense! Amaline had answered sharply. I think I'm the best judge of whether it needs to be opened or not. Give me the key at once. I guess I'm not going to have things in my house that I don't know anything about. I've got to see that they are packed away from moth. Phoebe's lips had trembled, but she continued to talk steadily. It is not necessary, Amaline. My mother packed them all away carefully in lavender and rosemary for me. She did not wish them opened till I got ready to open them myself. I do not want them opened. Amaline had been very angry at that, and told the little girl she would not have any such talk around her, and demanded the key at once, but Phoebe said, I have told you it is not necessary. These are my things, and I will not have any more of them opened, and I will not give you the key. That was open rebellion, and Amaline carried her in high dudgeon to Albert. Albert had looked at the pitiful little face with its pleading eyes under which circles sat mournfully, and sited with Phoebe. He said that Phoebe was right, the things were hers, and he did not see for his part why Amaline wanted to open them. From that hour Amaline had hard work to tolerate her little half-sister-in-law, and the enmity between them had never grown less. Little did Phoebe know, whenever she wore one of the frocks from that unopened trunk, how she roused her sister-in-law's wrath. The trunk had been stored in the deep closet in Phoebe's room, and the key had never left its resting place against her heart night or day. Sometimes Phoebe had unlocked it in the still hours of the early summer mornings, when no one else was stirring, and had looked long and lovingly at the garments folded within. It was there she kept the daguerreotype of the mother who was the idol of her child heart. Her father she could not remember, as he died when she was but a year old. In the depths of that trunk were laid several large packages labelled. The mother had told her about them before she died, and with her own hand had placed the boxes in the bottom of the trunk. The upper one was labelled, for my dear daughter Phoebe Dean, on her eighteenth birthday. For several days before her birthday Phoebe had felt an undertone of excitement. It was almost time to open the box which had been laid there over eight years ago by that beloved hand. Phoebe did not know what was in that box, but she knew it was something her mother put there for her. It contained her mother's thought for her grown-up daughter. It was like a voice from the grave. It thrilled her to think of it. On her birthday morning she had awakened with the light, and slipping out of bed had applied the little black key to the keyhole. Her fingers trembled as she turned the lock and opened the lid, softly lest she should wake someone. She wanted this holy gift all to herself now, this moment when her soul would touch again the soul of the lost mother. Carefully she lifted out the treasures in the trunk until she reached the box, then drew it forth, and placing the other things back closed the trunk and locked it. Then she took the box to her bed and untied it. Her heart was beating so fast she felt almost as if she had been running. She lifted the cover. There lay the buff marino in all its beauty, complete even to the brown knot for the hair, and the locket which had been her mother's at eighteen. And there on the top lay a letter in her mother's handwriting. Ah! This was what she had hoped for, a real word from her mother, which should be a guide to her in this grown-up life that was so lonely and different from the life she had lived with her mother. She hugged the letter to her heart and cried over it and kissed it.  But there were sounds of stirring in the house, and Phoebe knew that she would be expected in the kitchen before long, so she dried her tears and read the letter. Before it was half done the clatter in the kitchen had begun, and Emmeline's strident voice was calling up the stairway. Phoebe! Phoebe!  Phoebe had cast a wistful look at the rest of her letter, padded the soft folds of her marino tenderly, swept it out of sight into her closet, and answered Emmeline pleasantly, Yes, I'm coming. Not even the interruption could quite dim her pleasure on this day of days. She sprang up conscious stricken. She had not meant to be so late. It did not take long to dress, and with the letter tucked in with the key against her heart, she hurried down, only to meet Emmeline's frowning words and be ordered around like a little child. Emmeline had been very disagreeable ever since Hyrum Green had proposed to Phoebe. The morning had been crowded full of work, and the letter had had no chance, except to crackle lovingly against the blue home-spun. The thought of the buff marino upstairs made her thrill with pleasure, and the morning passed away happily in spite of Emmeline and hard work. Words from her mother's hastily red letter came floating to her and calling. She longed to pull it out and read once more to be sure just how they had been phrased, but there was no time. After dinner, however, as soon as she had finished the dishes, and while Emmeline was looking after something in the woodshed, she slipped away upstairs, without as usual asking if there was anything else to be done. She had decided that she would put on her new frock, for it had been her mother's wish in the letter, and go down to the village and call on that sweet-faced Mrs. Bafford. It was two years since Mrs. Bafford had invited her to spend the afternoon, and she had never plucked up the courage to go, for Emmeline always had something ready for her to do. But she felt that she had a right to a little time to herself on her birthday, and she meant to slip away without Emmeline seeing if she could. She took her letter out, intending to read it quietly first before she dressed, but a sudden thought of Emmeline and her ability to break in upon her quietness made her decide instead to dress and start, stopping in a maple grove on the way to the village to read her letter undisturbed. So with all haste she smoothed her hair, fastened in the velvet knot, and put on the pretty frock. For just a moment she paused in front of the glass and looked at herself, thrilling with the thought that this dress was planned by her dear mother, and that the loved hand had set every perfect stitch in its place. And this girl in the glass was the daughter her mother had wished her to be, at least in outward appearance. Was she also in heart life? She looked earnestly at the face in the glass, longing to ask herself many questions and unable to answer. Then with the letter safely hidden she hurried down. But her conscience would not let her go out the front door unobserved as she had planned.  She would be open and frank. She would step into the kitchen and tell Emmeline that she was going out for the afternoon. That would be the way her mother would desire her to do. So, though much against her own desire, she went. And there sat Emmeline with a large basket of dried beans to be shelled and put away for the winter. Phoebe stood aghast and hesitated. "'Well, really?' said Emmeline, looking up severely at the apparition in buff that stood in the doorway. Are you going to play the fine lady while I shell beans? It seems to me that's rather taking a high hand for one who's dependent on her relatives for every mouthful she eats, and seems to be likely to be for the rest of her days. That's gratitude, that is. But I take notice you eat the beans, oh yes, the beans that Albert provides, and I shell, while you gallivant round in party clothes.' The hateful speech brought the color to Phoebe's cheeks. "'Emeline,' she broke in, "'you know I didn't know you wanted those beans shelled to-day. I would have done them this morning between times if you had said so.' "'You didn't know,' sniffed Emmeline. "'You knew the beans was to shell, and you knew this was the first chance to do it. Besides, there wasn't any between times this morning. You didn't get up till almost noon. Everything was clear put back, and now you wash your white hands and dress up, no matter what the folks that keeps you have to do. That wasn't the way I was brought up, if I didn't have a fine lady mother like yours. My mother taught me gratitude.' Phoebe reflected on the long, hard days of work she had done for Emmeline without a word of praise or thanks. Work is hard and harder than any wage-earner in the house in the same position would have been expected to do. She had earned her board and more, and she knew it. Her clothes she made altogether from the stores her mother had left for her. She had not cost Albert a cent in that way. Nevertheless, her conscience hurt her because of the late hour of her coming down that morning. With one desperate glance at the size of the bean-basket, and a rapid calculation how long it would take her to finish them, she seized her clean apron that hung behind the door and enveloped herself in it. I have wanted to go out for a little while this afternoon. I have been wanting to go for a long time, but if those beans have got to be done this afternoon, I can do them first. She said it calmly, and went at the beans with determined fingers that fairly made the beans shiver as they hustled out of their resisting withered pods. Emmeline sniffed. You're a pretty figure shelling beans in that rig. I suppose it's one of your ma's contagiuments. But if she had any sense at all, she wouldn't want you to put it on. It ain't fit for ordinary life. It might do to have your picture took in, or to go to a wedding, but you do look like a fool in it now. Besides, if it's worth anything, and it looks like there was good stuff in it, you'll spoil it, shelling beans. Phoebe shelled away feverishly and said not a word. Her eyes looked as though there might be anything behind their lowered lashes, from tears to fire flashes. Emmeline surveyed her angrily. Her wrath was on the boiling point, and she felt the time had come to let it boil. A little bird, perched on the roof of the barn, piped out, Phoebe, Phoebe! The girl lifted her head toward the outside door and listened. The bird seemed to be a reminder that there were other things in the world worthwhile besides having one's own way even on one's birthday. The paper in her bosom crackled, and Emmeline eyed her suspiciously, but the swift fingers shelled on unremittingly. I think the time has come to have an understanding," said Emmeline, raising her voice harshly. If you won't talk to me, Albert'll have to tend to you, but I'm the proper one to speak and I'm going to do it. I won't have this sort of thing going on in my house. It's a disgrace. I'd like to know what you mean, treatin' Hyrum Green in this way.  People will talk about you and I won't have it. There was an angry flash in Emmeline's eyes. She had made up her mind to have her say. Phoebe raised astonished eyes to her sister-in-law's excited face. I don't know what you mean, Emmeline. I have nothing whatever to do with Hyrum Green. I can't prevent him coming to my brother's house. I'm sure I wish I could, for it's most unpleasant to have him around continually. The lofty air and cool words angered Emmeline beyond expression. She almost always lost her temper at once when she began to speak with Phoebe. Her most violent effort seemed at once so futile, and the girl was so provokingly calm that it was out of the question to keep one's temper. You don't know what I mean, mocked Emmeline. No, of course not. You don't know who he comes here to see. You think, I suppose, that he comes to see Albert and me, perhaps. Well, you're not so much of a little fool as you want to pretend. You know well enough, Hyrum Green is just waiting round on your whims.  You'll get your pay-miss when you do marry them. Those young ones will be so wild you'll never get them tamed. They'll lead you a life of it. It's a strange way for any decent girl to act. If it's a new house you're waiting on, I guess you can have your way at once by just saying so. And I think it's time for you to speak, for I tell you plainly it ain't likely another such good chance'll come your way ever. And I don't suppose you want to be a hanger on all your life on people that can't afford to keep you. Phoebe's fingers were still shelling beans rapidly, but her eyes were on Amaline's angry face. I thought I had told you, she said, and her voice was steady, that I would never marry Hyrum Green, nothing and nobody on earth could make me marry him. I despise him. You know perfectly well that the things you are saying are wrong. It is not my fault that he comes here. I do not want him to come, and he knows it. I have told him I will never marry him. I do not want him to build a house nor do anything else, for nothing that he could do would make any difference.  If he wasn't entirely deft about you, he'd give you up at once. Well, what are you intending to do then? Answer me that. Are you laying out to live on Albert the rest of your life? It's best to know what to expect and be prepared. Answer me, she demanded again, as Phoebe dropped her eyes to hide the sudden tears that threatened to overwhelm her calm. I don't know. The girl tried to say it quietly, but the angry woman snatched the words from her lips and tossed them back. You don't know. You don't know. Well, you better know. I can tell you right now that there's going to be a new order of things. If you stay here any longer, you've got to do as I say. You're not going on your high and mighty way, doing as you please, an hour longer.   Amaline, said she, and her voice was low and controlled, but reminded Amaline somehow of the first low rumbling of a storm, and when she looked at Phoebe's white face, she fancied a flash like vivid lightning passed over it. Amaline, don't you dare to speak my mother's name in that way. I will not listen to you. Then in the pause of the clashing voices, the little bird from the weather vane on the barn called out again, Phoebe, Phoebe! And it was then that Phoebe cast her apron from her and went out through the kitchen door into the golden and glorious October afternoon, away from the pitiless tongue and the endless beans and the sorrow of her life. The little bird on the weather vane left his perch and flew along from tree to tree, calling joyously, Phoebe, Phoebe! As she went down the road, he seemed as glad as though she were a comrade come to roam the woods with him. The sunlight lingered lovingly on the buff marino, as though it were a piece of itself come out to meet it. And she flitted breathlessly down the way, she knew not with her, only to get out and away. Queer, wintry-looking worms crawled lazily to their homes across the long white road, woolly caterpillars in early fur overcoats. Large leaves floated solemnly down to their long home. Patches of rank grass rose green and pert, passionately pretending that summer was not done, scorning the deadness all about them. All the air was filled with a golden haze, and Phoebe and her golden, sun-like garments seemed a part of it.


greetings my esteemed disciples and greetings to all supporters as well today I thought to talk a bit about fasting because I recently issued a wild hunt challenge and one of the steps in that challenge is to perform two 24-hour fasts and first and foremost I will just give a brief rundown of the procedure I go through whenever I do one of these fasts so basically if I train in the morning as I don't eat breakfast I just utilize a scoop 10 grams of amino acids before the gym and after the gym then I get back eat lunch which is the only meal of the day so it can basically be a standard lunch of some eggs some bacon a smoothie of some sort with some extra whey in it to make up for the protein intake and then after that it might be 12 or at one o'clock something like that then I simply do not eat anything else during that day you can of course use some coffee or tea if you want if you want to make the challenge of a fast a bit more intense you can also skip the coffee but if it's the first time you do it and if you do drink coffee on a regular basis I would definitely suggest that you also take coffee because it will push you through if you get hungry or if you start lacking focus etc but be mindful so that you don't take coffee too late in the day and have a hard time falling asleep now also it's perhaps unpleasant for some people to try to go to bed on an empty stomach when you are hungry but I would argue the case that it is actually something too it's an acquired taste to fall asleep on a hungry stomach I've done it plenty over the years when I've been cutting to get shredded etc and it's something that it's a bit unpleasant in the beginning but once you get used to it once you get into the mindset that when you fall asleep hungry your body is just burning through all sorts all kinds of fat you have on your body and it just cleanses the body so if you can get that mindset into you when you try to fall asleep when you're hungry you have gained a great victory over yourself you've gained a great victory in your health journey so try to think of it that way when you're falling asleep hungry you're doing yourself your mind your body a great service so basically to recap I eat one big meal at lunch then I don't eat anything after that I can utilize some tea or coffee without any milk or sugar or cream to increase my focus and lessen my hunger a bit if I feel like it and then after that I eat a big lunch 24 hours after the lunch I ate the day before now on to the second topic of today it's a quite simple question but first I have some homework for you all to do and it's simply to google to search on google or whatever search engine you prefer search for fasting health benefits or even intermittent fasting health benefits and then when you have read up on all different sorts of studies and you can see what sort of health benefits you think is most attractive then you might ask yourself why aren't more people why aren't more institutions promoting fasting and the answer to the question is quite simply there aren't particularly much money to be made out of promoting fasting there aren't any pill that big pharma can sell to you and keep in mind that there are a lot of big companies a lot of big pharma companies that do not want you happy and healthy they want you sick and depressed because that means they can sell on to you expensive medication there aren't that much money if you are a big pharmaceutical company to be made out of healthy people but sick people in absolute goldmine absolute goldmine for a lot of companies to have unhealthy people then of course also weak people in general you can make a lot of money out of them you can't make as much money out of fit and healthy people and we can talk about bad things you eat or even drugs etc a lot of money to be made in promoting unhealthy behaviors not as much money to be made out of fit and healthy people so that is basically the short answer to a simple question why aren't more people promoting this why aren't more institutions promoting this and it's the same thing with other health boosting things you can do such as training I can also give some health advice for anyone who doesn't want to go into the gym just go for a walk for an hour each day it will do wonders for your well-being it will do wonders for your health so you can choose either you give money to these companies that does not work in your favor or you can give money to yourself or you can give energy and health to yourself by just taking care of yourself by doing such things as fasting every once in a while training eating good sleeping well do not participate in the generate use of drugs etc so that is the reason why these sort of things aren't more promoted but for me I want the best for my disciples I want all of my disciples to be life-affirming forces of nature so I say to you abstain from bad things and embrace good things so basically for well-being you can try to incorporate a 24-hour fast every month or so and of course you can do it more often if you feel comfortable but again read up on the health benefits just search around a bit for it and yeah hopefully that will be motivation for you to do some fasting so I hope that was enlightening and thank you for watching be sure to follow me on telegram and Twitter as well I have all social media links in the description box below you can also support my holy work if you want to do that all links in the description box so thank you for watching XXO boom