rom her
walk, and the pallor of her face made her lips seem redder.

Irene Burnham crossed over to the newcomer, shrugging herself with
girlish self-consciousness.

"Isn't it just too mean, Em?" she panted; "I know they'll discharge us.
That means good-by to my new parasol; I've been dying for one all
summer, a red silk one"--

"Let up on the parasol racket, Sis," called one of the Burnham boys;
"business is business."

The hum of the young voices went on, mingled with gay, irresponsible
laughter. Em got up and began to tie her hat.

"Where are you going?" asked one of the girls.

"I'm going to work."

"To work! why, we've struck!"

"I haven't," said Em soberly. "I'm willing to work for a dollar a day."

There was a little cry of dismay from the girls; Steve Elliott's tanned
face flushed a coppery red.

"You ain't goin' back on us, Em?" he said angrily.

"I ain't going back on my word," answered the girl; "you needn't work if
you don't want to; this is a free country."

"It isn't, though,"' said Ike Burnham; "the raisin men have a
ring--there's no freedom where there's rings."

"I suppose they go into them because they want to," said Em, setting her
lips.

"They go into them because they'd get left if they didn't."

"Well, if I was a raisin man," persisted the girl quietly, "and wanted
to go into a ring, I'd do it; but if anybody undertook to boss me into
it, they'd have the same kind of a contract on hand that you've got."
She turned her back on the little group and started toward the vineyard.

Irene had drifted toward Steve Elliott's side and was smiling
expectantly up into his bronzed face. He broke away from her glance and
strode after the retreating figure.

"Em!" The girl turned quickly.

"Oh, Steve!" she cried, with a pleading sob in her voice.

"Em, you're making a fool of yourself!" he broke out cruelly.

The curve in the red lips straightened.

"Let me alone!" she gasped, putting up her hand to her throat. "If I'm
to be made a fool of, I'd rather do it myself. I guess I can stand it,
if you'll let me alone!"

III.

When Bassett's foreman rode into the vineyard at noon to talk with the
strikers, he saw a wide brown hat moving slowly among the vine-rows.

"Who's that?" he asked, pointing with his whip.

"Em Wickersham," said one of the group sullenly.

The foreman turned his horse's head, and galloped down the furrow.

"Miss Wickersham."

Em straightened herself, and pushe