aged somehow."

"Then you're not disappointed in the way it sounds, close up?"

She stood beside him, leaning against the piano, her face flushed, her
breath rapid, searching his face eagerly. Peter knew that it was only
the dormant artist in her seeking the light, but he thrilled warmly at
her nearness, for she was very lovely. Peter's acquaintance with women
had been varied, but, curiously enough, each meeting with this girl
instead of detracting had only added to her charm.

"No. I'm not disappointed in it," he said quite calmly, every impulse in
him urging a stronger expression. But he owed a duty to himself.
_Noblesse oblige!_ It was one of the mottoes of his House--(not always
followed--alas!). With a more experienced woman he would have said what
was in his mind. He would probably have taken her in his arms and kissed
her at once, for that was really what he would have liked to do. But
Beth....

Perhaps something in the coolness of his tone disconcerted her, for she
turned away from the piano.

"You're very kind," she said quietly.

He had a feeling that she was about to slip away from him, so he got up.

"Won't you sing again, Beth?"

But she shook her head. For some reason the current that had run between
them was broken. As she moved toward the door, he caught her by the
hand.

"Don't go yet. I want to talk to you."

"I don't think I ought." And then, with a whimsical smile, "And you
ought to be out makin' the trees grow."

He laughed. "There's a lot of time for that."

She let him lead her to the divan again and sat, her fingers dovetailed
around a slender knee.

"I--I'm sorry I made fun of you the other day," she confessed
immediately.

"I didn't mind in the least."

"But you _did_ seem to know it all," she said. And then smiled in the
direction of the piano. "Now--I'm comin' to think you do. Even Shad says
you're a wonder. I--I don't think he likes you, though----" she
admitted.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't you care. Shad don't like anybody but himself and
Goda'mighty--with God trailin' a little."

Peter smiled. Her singing voice may have been impersonal but one could
hardly think that of her conversation.

"And you, Beth--where do _you_ come in?"

She glanced at him quickly.

"Oh, I----," she said with a laugh, "I just trail along after God."

Her irony meant no irreverence but a vast derogation of Shad Wells.
Somehow her point of view was very illuminating.

"I'm afra