ily had sprouted beside the milk house. At her feet lay an axe
with which she made kindlings for fires. She stooped and picked it up.
The memory of that prone figure sobbing in the grass caught her with
a renewed spasm. She shut her eyes as if to close it out. That made
hearing so acute she felt certain she heard Elnora moaning beside the
path. The eyes flew open. They looked straight at a few spindling tomato
plants set too near the tree and stunted by its shade. Mrs. Comstock
whirled on the hickory and swung the axe. Her hair shook down, her
clothing became disarranged, in the heat the perspiration streamed, but
stroke fell on stroke until the tree crashed over, grazing a corner of
the milk house and smashing the garden fence on the east.

At the sound Elnora sprang to her feet and came running down the garden
walk. "Mother!" she cried. "Mother! What in the world are you doing?"

Mrs. Comstock wiped her ghastly face on her apron. "I've laid out to cut
that tree for years," she said. "It shades the beets in the morning, and
the tomatoes in the afternoon!"

Elnora uttered one wild little cry and fled into her mother's arms. "Oh
mother!" she sobbed. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Mrs. Comstock's arms swept together in a tight grip around Elnora.

"There isn't a thing on God's footstool from a to izzard I won't forgive
you, my precious girl!" she said. "Tell mother what it is!"

Elnora lifted her wet face. "He told me," she panted, "just as soon as
he decently could--that second day he told me. Almost all his life he's
been engaged to a girl at home. He never cared anything about me. He was
only interested in the moths and growing strong."

Mrs. Comstock's arms tightened. With a shaking hand she stroked the
bright hair.

"Tell me, honey," she said. "Is he to blame for a single one of these
tears?"

"Not one!" sobbed Elnora. "Oh mother, I won't forgive you if you don't
believe that. Not one! He never said, or looked, or did anything all the
world might not have known. He likes me very much as a friend. He hated
to go dreadfully!"

"Elnora!" the mother's head bent until the white hair mingled with the
brown. "Elnora, why didn't you tell me at first?"

Elnora caught her breath in a sharp snatch. "I know I should!" she
sobbed. "I will bear any punishment for not, but I didn't feel as if I
possibly could. I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?" the shaking hand was on the hair again.

"Afraid you wouldn't let him come!"