hat she was only beginning to realize how much
of tragedy there was in this good-by. Not even she had appreciated,
until she stood there on the dock, how far removed was the world of
white and black. There was something terrible and ridiculous in sending
her little sister away with a stranger, and denying to her the right to
know again the people among whom she had been reared and who had given
her the training and the education that made it possible for her so
easily to take her place in the white world. "Well, I'm mighty glad I
was ambitious," she thought with a rush of pride as she looked at the
well-bred, ladylike figure in its stylish traveling dress. "Supposing
she'd been handed over to poor white trash!"

"Ellen," Hertha whispered, "I'm going to try to make something of myself
but I'm more easily discouraged than you."

"You must be courageous, Hertha. Go ahead and do things."

"I don't know how to do that. But perhaps things will happen."

Miss Patty had said good-by at the house, but now Pomona came hurrying
down with a basket of Japanese persimmons for the journey. With the
bunch of red roses these made two more things not to be forgotten when
you left your seat, and Hertha felt Miss Witherspoon look disapprovingly
at them. Then with the rising sun the boat came toward them around the
bend seeming, to the young girl who stood there, like some sea monster
that would drag her away from everything familiar and carry her to an
alien land. She grew almost sick with fear, but a glance at Ellen made
her rally. A step up the gangplank and she had left the world of
friends, of mother and sister and brother, of lovely skies, of beautiful
trees, of mockingbirds and whistling quail, the world of long walks with
Tom and of evenings out under the stars; the world that had been a world
of rest and peace until Tom left it on this same boat less than two
months ago.

"The porter has both your bags, I hope," said Miss Witherspoon
anxiously. But it proved that Lee Merryvale was carrying them, and as
she spoke he deposited them at Hertha's side. Then, taking off his hat,
he said good-by. "I am coming North this winter," he remarked
decisively, "and I shall expect to see you. I hope you'll enjoy going
into a new land."

"I think I shall," Hertha managed to answer, and was grateful that he
had not tried to shake hands. When he left them the moorings were cast
off, and the boat turned out into the stream.

On the dock stood