he gold-pieces the next time he
came; but upon second thoughts David decided that he did not dare. He
was not wishing to be called a thief a second time. It would be better,
he concluded, to bring some food from the house instead.

In his mountain home everything the house afforded in the way of food
had always been freely given to the few strangers that found their way
to the cabin door. So now David had no hesitation in going to Mrs.
Holly's pantry for supplies, upon the occasion of his next visit to Joe
Glaspell's.

Mrs. Holly, coming into the kitchen, found him merging from the pantry
with both hands full of cookies and doughnuts.

"Why, David, what in the world does this mean?" she demanded.

"They're for Joe and Betty," smiled David happily.

"For Joe and--But those doughnuts and cookies don't belong to you.
They're mine!"

"Yes, I know they are. I told them you had plenty," nodded David.

"Plenty! What if I have?" remonstrated Mrs. Holly, in growing
indignation. "That doesn't mean that you can take--" Something in
David's face stopped the words half-spoken.

"You don't mean that I CAN'T take them to Joe and Betty, do you? Why,
Mrs. Holly, they're hungry! Joe and Betty are. They don't have half
enough to eat. Betty said so. And we've got more than we want. There's
food left on the table every day. Why, if YOU were hungry, wouldn't you
want somebody to bring--"

But Mrs. Holly stopped him with a despairing gesture.

"There, there, never mind. Run along. Of course you can take them.
I'm--I'm GLAD to have you," she finished, in a desperate attempt to
drive from David's face that look of shocked incredulity with which he
was still regarding her.

Never again did Mrs. Holly attempt to thwart David's generosity to the
Glaspells; but she did try to regulate it. She saw to it that
thereafter, upon his visits to the house, he took only certain things
and a certain amount, and invariably things of her own choosing.

But not always toward the Glaspell shanty did David turn his steps.
Very frequently it was in quite another direction. He had been at the
Holly farmhouse three weeks when he found his Lady of the Roses.

He had passed quite through the village that day, and had come to a
road that was new to him. It was a beautiful road, smooth, white, and
firm. Two huge granite posts topped with flaming nasturtiums marked the
point where it turned off from the main highway. Beyond these, as David
soon found, it