to the lives of those
about her. And in a lowered voice told of the promise exacted of her
brother, her only brother and support. When she finished, Nancy was
looking up with wide open eyes.

"You mean to say she prayed for the only kin she had on earth to be
struck dead if he ever went wrong?--an' him a man? Well, that surely is
grit!"

"The thing is, Nan," Jane said softly, "that people with two eyes ought
to do at least as much!"

Nancy arose and brushed her skirt.

"I reckon," she murmured, "that girl can teach us a heap when it comes
to gettin' your teeth in things an' holdin' on. I ain't got a good
reason now for not goin' back an' fightin' the ole man; but I wish to
Gawd somethin' would strike _him_ dead! Much obliged, Miss Jane--I sort
of feel more like a Christian now."

CHAPTER XI

ON THE THRESHOLD

Toward evening Dale rode back to Arden. His mind was a confusion of
happy impressions, the result of having laid its touch upon the throttle
of power. From the dusky room where his life had sat wondering, he felt
now that a hand had pressed his shoulder, aroused him, and led him to
the silver threshold whose outlook was a landscape of golden
opportunity. As, twenty-four hours earlier, when his eyes for the first
time rapturously feasted on this valley of plenty, so now his mind
roamed across a dazzling future--a future which was his, his very own.

Tossing back his head he gave a yell, a wild, joyous yell, that startled
the horse and sent scurrying to higher branches an inquisitive squirrel
which had been looking down at him with chattering interest.

When he turned into the circle, the Colonel stood up and stretched,
welcoming him with an open smile of approval. He could imagine what tact
Bob had employed to bring about this new attire, but little did he guess
at what sacrifice to personal comfort. For the donation of clothes was
not what stamped Bob a philanthropist. He had taken Dale into his room
and there prosecuted a stragetic system; voluntarily submitting to Uncle
Zack's shears on his hair which required no cutting. Nor was this all.
He made the old servant shave him, a thing he despised from any hand but
his own. Then he tubbed, and continued this game of follow-the-leader
throughout the entire toilette, affably talking all the while, until
Dale emerged a different looking, and a much more gratified, man.

"Lawd, Marse Dale," Uncle Zack had exclaimed, "you suah does look
handsome! I'se