e cried suddenly in a high, derisive key.

"But"--the questioner had lost her moment of vision and was once again
floundering between ignorance and intuition--"Why did you kiss him
then?"

"I didn't. He kissed me."

"You let him. Isn't that the same thing?"

"No, no. You're so silly. You don't know anything." She gave a
hysterical laugh and the bonds of her pride broke in a smothered cry:
"I couldn't help it. I didn't want to. I didn't mean to. I didn't
mean to go out and meet him and I went. I--" she gathered up the
stocking and, needles and all, buried her face in it. It was the only
thing she could find to hide behind. "I'm so miserable," she sobbed.
"You don't know. It's such a terrible thing first feeling one way and
then the other. I'm so mixed up I don't know what I feel. I wish I
was dead."

There was a sound of men's voices outside, and the wagon came to a
jolting halt. Daddy John, on the driver's seat, silhouetted against
the circle of sky, slipped the whip into its ring of leather and turned
toward the girls. Lucy threw herself backward and lay with her face on
the sacks, stifling her tears.

"What are you two girls jawing about in there?" he asked, squinting
blindly from the sun dazzle into the clear, amber light of the canvas
cavern.

"We're just telling stories and things," said Susan.

The old man peered at Lucy's recumbent figure.

"Ain't she well?" he queried. "Thought I heard crying."

"Her head aches, it's so hot."

"Let her stay there. We'll do her cooking for her. Just stay where
you are, Lucy, and don't worrit about your work."

But the voices outside demanded her. It was the noon halt and Lucy was
an important factor in the machinery of the train. Glen's call for her
was mingled with the fresh treble of Bob's and Bella's at a farther
distance, rose in a plaintive, bovine lowing. She stretched a hand
sideways and gripped Susan's skirt.

"I can't go," she gasped in a strangled whisper. "I can't seem to get
a hold on myself. Ask Zavier to build the fire and cook. He'll do it,
and Courant will help him. And tell the others I'm sick."

Lucy's headache lasted all through the dinner hour, and when the train
started she still lay in the back of the doctor's wagon. For once she
seemed indifferent to the comfort of her relatives. The clamor that
rose about their disorderly fire and unsavory meal came to her ears
through the canvas walls, and she remained deaf an