appiness deluged
her, flushed her cheeks, and shone in her eyes. She longed and dreaded
to alight again upon that earth which had never shown her kindness.
Could it be possible that she should reign queen in a good man's heart?
For so many years she had been habitually in the background, kept there
either by her stepmother's will or her own desire to hide her
shabbiness, and when need had at last forced her to initiative, she had
received such humiliating stabs from the greed of men--could it be that
she was to walk surrounded by protection, and love, and _respect_?

She closed her eyes. Spring, sunlight, joy coursed through every vein.
When at last they began again to dip toward earth, the question surged
through her: "Shall I ever be so happy again?"

And now Miss Upton's figure loomed large and gracious in the foreground
of her thoughts. She longed for the refuge of her kindly arms until she
could gather herself together in the new era of safety and peace.

The plane touched the earth, ran a little way toward an arched building,
and stopped.

Ben jumped out, and Geraldine exclaimed over the beauty of a rose-tinted
cloud of blossoms.

"Yes. Pretty orchard, isn't it?" he said. He unstrapped her safety belt
and lifted her out of the cockpit. Her eager eyes noted that they were
at the back of a large brick dwelling.

"Is Miss Upton here?" she asked while her escort took off her leather
coat and her helmet. The latter had been pushed on and off once too
often. The wonder of her golden hair fell over the poor little white
cotton gown and Ben repressed his gasp of admiration.

"Oh, this is dreadful," she said, putting her hands up helplessly.

"Don't touch it," exclaimed her companion quickly. "You can't do
anything with it anyway. There isn't a hairpin in the hangar. Miss Upton
will love to see it. She will take care of it."

"Oh, I can't. How can I!" exclaimed Geraldine.

"Certainly, that's all right," said Ben hastily. "Miss Upton is right
here. She will take you into the house and make you comfy. Let me put
this around you."

He took the crepe shawl and put it about her shoulders, lifting out the
shining gold that fell over the fringes.

"I know it is very old-fashioned and queer," said Geraldine, pulling the
wrap over the grass stains and looking up into his eyes with a childlike
appeal that made him set his teeth. "It was my mother's and you said
'white.' It was all I had."

Miss Upton had come to Mrs.