to a sitting posture.

"Ruth's in the little house typing ... Penton and Darrie are a-field
taking a walk."

I paused where I was. Mrs. Baxter stood directly in the pathway that led
to my tent. And the second act of _Judas_ had begun to burn in my brain,
during my vigorous walk back from Jones's shack....

* * * * *

"In the yard of an inn at Capernaum. On the left stands the entrance to
the inn. In the extreme background lies the beach, and, beyond, the Sea
of Galilee. A fisherboat is seen, drawn up on shore. Three fishermen
discovered mending nets, at rise of curtain."

The stage was set for the second act. I must get the play finished in
the rough. I owed this much to Mr. Derek, who was faithfully backing
me--if not to my own career ... and already I had succeeded in
interesting Mitchell Kennerley, the new young publisher, in my effort.
After the book was disposed of ... then Europe ... then London ... then
Paris, and all the large life of the brilliant world of intellect and
literature that awaited me.

But, at the present, one small, dainty, dark woman unconsciously stood
in my pathway. I looked into Hildreth Baxter's face with caution,
strangely disquieted, but proud to be outwardly self-possessed.

"Let's _us_ take a walk," she suggested.

"No, I must go to my tent and write!"

"Oh, come now ... don't you be like Mubby!... that's the way _he_
talks."

"All right," I assented, amazed at her directness, "I'll put my work by
for the day--though the entire dialogue of the three Galilean fishermen
about the miracle of the great draught of fishes is at this very moment
burning in my brain."

She laid her hand lightly, but with an electric contact, on the bend of
my arm, and off we started, into the inviting fields.

Not far out, we came across a group of romping children. They were
shouting and chasing one another about, as happy dogs do when overjoyed
with excessive energy.

The example the children set was contagious.... Hildreth and I were
soon romping too--when out of the former's sight. We took hands and ran
hard down a hill, and half-way up another one opposite, through our own
natural impetus.

We changed our mood, strolling slowly and thoughtfully till we came to a
small rustic bridge, so pretty it seemed almost like stagecraft, that
spanned, at one leap, one of the countryside's innumerable, flashing
brooks. We stood looking over into the foaming, speeding water