theah to grow up with the country, and the
wise peepul whut's stayin' at home and advisin' of 'em to go."

Celia shuddered.

"I'm ha'f afraid to go," she said. "They say the wind blows all the
time out theah. They say it nevah quits blowin'."

"'Taint laik as if you wus goin' to be alone out theah," comforted
Mansy Storm, who was busy putting away a little cake she had made
with her own hands for Celia's lunch basket. "Youah husband will be
out theah."

She closed the lid down and raised her head brightly.

"Whut diffunce does it maik?" she asked, "how ha'd the wind blows if
you've got youah husband?"

Lucy Brown flipped a speck of dust from the hem of Celia's travelling
dress.

"Yes," said she, "and such a husband!"

Celia looked wistfully out over the calm and quiet street, basking in
the sunlight, peacefully minus a ripple of breeze to break the beauty
of it, her large eyes sad.

"I'm afraid of the wind," she complained. "Sto'ms scah me."

And she reiterated:

"I'm afraid of the wind!"

Sarah suddenly ran down the walk on either side of which blossomed old
fashioned flowers, Marsh Marigolds, Johnny-Jump-Ups and Brown-Eyed
Susans. She stood at the front gate, which swung on its hinges,
leaning over it, looking down the road.

"I thoat I heahd the stage," she called back. "Yes. Suah enuf. Heah it
is, comin'."

At that Celia's mother, hurrying fearfully out the door, threw her
arms around her.

Celia fell to sobbing.

"It's so fah away," she stammered brokenly, between her sobs. "I'm
afraid ... to ... go.... It's so fah ... away!"

"Theah! theah!" comforted her mother, lifting up her face and kissing
it. "It's not so fah but you can come back again. The same road comes
that goes, deah one. Theah! Theah!"

"Miss Celia," cried a reproachful voice from the door. "Is you gwine
away, chile, widout tellin' youah black Mammy good-by?"

Celia unclasped her mother's arms, fell upon the bosom of her black
Mammy and wept anew.

"De Lawd be wid you, chile," cooed the voice of the negress, musical
with tenderness, "an' bring you back home safe an' soun' in His own
time."

The stage rolled up with clash and clatter and flap of curtain.

It stopped at the gate. There ensued the rush of departure, the
driver, after hoisting the baggage of his one passenger thereto,
looking stolidly down on the heartbreak from the height of his perch,
his long whip poised in midair.

Celia's friends swarmed about her. Th