sed when people were
leaving a place for good--such as a prison; but for coming back again,
perhaps after all, it was better to use the front door. Egbert had used
the sheets, though.

Fortune favoured Pearl's plans that afternoon. A book agent called at
the back door with the prospectus of a book entitled, "Woman's
Influence in the Home." While he was busy explaining to Mrs. Motherwell
the great advantages of possessing a copy of this book, and she was
equally busy explaining to him her views on bookselling as an
occupation for an able-bodied man, Pearl secured Tom's suit, ran down
the front stairs, out the front door and away to the bluff.

Coming back to the house she had an uneasy feeling that she was doing
something wrong. Then she remembered Edythe, dry-eyed and pale, and her
fears vanished. Pearl had recited once at a Band of Hope meeting a poem
of her own choosing--this was before the regulations excluding secular
subjects became so rigid. Pearl's recitation dealt with a captive
knight who languished in a mouldy prison. He begged a temporary
respite--his prayer was heard--a year was given him. He went back to
his wife and child and lived the year in peace and happiness. The hour
came to part, friends entreated--wife and child wept--the knight alone
was calm.

He stepped through the casement, a proud flush on his cheek, casting
aside wife, child, friends. "What are wife and child to the word of a
knight?" he said. "And behold the dawn has come!"

Pearl had lived the scene over and over; to her it stood for all that
was brave and heroic. Coming up through the weeds that day, she was
that man. Her step was proud, her head was thrown back, her brown eyes
glowed and burned; there was strength and grace in every motion.

When Tom Motherwell furtively left his father's house, and made his way
to the little grove where his best clothes were secreted, his movements
were followed by two anxious brown eyes that looked out of the little
window in the rear of the house.

The men came in from the barn, and the night hush settled down upon the
household. Mr. and Mrs. Motherwell went to their repose, little
dreaming that their only son had entered society, and, worse still, was
exposed to the baneful charms of the reckless young woman who was known
to have a preference for baking powder and canned goods, and curled her
hair with the curling tongs.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PARTY AT SLATER'S

"I wonder how we are going