oing to be so nice? All my school life I have looked forward to
coming home, and now it's all spoiled! I'm not made like Rachel. I
can't sit down and be quiet. It doesn't come natural to me to be
resigned; I want to argue and understand the meaning of things. I have
to fight it through every inch of the way."

"I, too, Babs," he said sadly. "I'm afraid I have kicked very hard
against the pricks several times in my life. Every now and then--very
rarely--one meets a sweet soul like Rachel who knows nothing of these
struggles; they are born saints, and appear to rise superior to
temptations, but most of us are continually fighting. There's this
consolation, that the hour of victory can never be so sweet as when it
comes after a struggle."

"And Vere--will she win too? I can think of no one but her just now.
We used often to quarrel, and I've been jealous of her hundreds of
times. I never knew I loved her so much till we were in danger, but now
I'd give my life to save her, and help her through this terrible time!"

"And you will do it, too. Vere will win her battle, but not with her
own weapons, as Rachel says. Pride and anger won't carry her very far
down the road she has to travel, poor child. It will be a gentler
weapon."

"You mean--?"

Will turned his back to me, and stood staring out of the window. He
looked so big and strong himself, as if no weakness could touch him.

"I mean--love," he said softly.

I wondered what he meant. I wondered why he turned his face from me as
he spoke. I wondered if the thought of Vere lying there all broken and
lovely was too much for his composure, and if he was longing to save her
himself. But then there was Rachel. He could never be false to poor
trusting Rachel!

CHAPTER TWELVE.

_August 20th_.
It is lovely to be able to go out again into the sweet summer land, and
drive about with father and mother, and have our nice, homely talks
again. The Greaves' are perfect angels of kindness, and what we should
have done without their hospitality I'm sure I can't tell, but every
family has its own little ways, and, of course, you like your own the
best. The Greaves' way is always to say exactly precisely whatever they
mean and nothing beyond, and to think you rather mad if you do anything
else. Our way is to have little jokes and allusions, and a great deal
of chatter about nothing in particular, and