tle world! For a long time he sat
and looked out into the darkness, then suddenly he squared his
shoulders, gripped the rail tight in his hands for a half second and
then slipped to the ground. Picking up his switch he turned and strode
off toward Sweetbriar, which by this time was a little handful of
fireflys glowing down in the sweet meadows.

When he got as far as the blacksmith's shop Everett climbed the wall
and approached the house through the garden, for in front of the store
had been piled high a bonfire of empty boxes and dry wood boughs, and
most of the inhabitants of Sweetbriar, small fry and large, were
assembled in jocular groups around its blaze of light. He could see
Mr. Crabtree and Bob rolling out an empty barrel to serve as a
speaking stand for the Honorable Gid, who stood in the foreground in
front of the store steps talking to Uncle Tucker, with an admiring
circle around him. Horses and wagons and buggies were hitched at
various posts along the road, which indicated the gathering of a small
crowd from neighboring towns to hear the coming oration, and the front
porch of the store presented a scene of unwonted excitement.

Everett clicked the garden gate and steered around to the back door of
the kitchen in hopes of finding black Mag still at her post and
begging of her a glass of milk and a biscuit. But as he stood in the
doorway, instead of Mag he discovered Rose Mary with her white skirts
tucked up under one of her long kitchen aprons, putting the final
polishing touch to a shining pile of dishes. She looked up at him for
a second, and then went on with her work, and Everett could see that
her curled lips were trembling like a hurt child's.

"I--I thought I might get a bite of something from--from Mag if she
hadn't left--the kitchen--I--I--" Everett hesitated on the threshold
and in speech. "I--I am sorry to trouble you," he finished lamely.

"I don't believe you care--care if you do," answered Rose Mary, and
her blue eyes showed a decided temper spark under their black lashes.
"I see I made a mistake in expecting anything of you. A friend's
fingers ought not to slip through yours when you need them to hold
tight. But come, get your supper--"

"Please, Rose Mary, I'm most awfully ashamed," he said as he came and
stood close beside her, and there was a note in his voice that fairly
startled him with its tenderness. "I'm just a cross old bear, and I
don't deserve anything, no supper and no--no Ro