o one minded if you danced in the moonlight and played in the
morning. Why should you not do such simple, happy things!

She took up her needle again, and of a sudden thought of Tom going away
alone. The remembrance of the boy's face held her to her task.

Along the lane came an automobile, its horn tooting as it bumped over
the uneven road. Hertha started, and putting down her work watched to
see the car stop in front of the Merryvale door. It was most unusual to
have guests arrive in this fashion and at this hour. The men were not
about; Pomona, the cook, was unequal to receiving such a visitor, so
though it was not her specified task, Hertha, mindful for the good
ordering of the house, went to the door.

Descending from the automobile was an alert-looking lady, neither young
nor old, in a plain, good-fitting, tailor-made suit and small hat, with
the business-like air of one who has done much traveling and is
accustomed to finding herself in new surroundings.

"I am Miss Witherspoon," she said at once. "I had expected to arrive
later in the afternoon by boat, but it seemed wiser at the last to come
part of the way by train. I hope I am not inconveniencing you by my
early arrival."

"It is no inconvenience," Hertha replied, "but I am sorry that Miss
Merryvale is lying down."

"Don't think of disturbing her," the newcomer said. And then, smiling at
Hertha, asked, "Is this another Miss Merryvale?"

"No," Hertha answered, "I am Miss Merryvale's maid."

She was quite accustomed to being taken for a white girl, and felt no
embarrassment; but the same could not be said of Miss Witherspoon. That
well-bred lady almost stared; and then, turning, dismissed her car and
followed Hertha, who had laden herself with bags, to the bedroom.

"I hope everything is as you like it," the girl said to the "paying
guest" who looked with approval at the cool room, high-ceilinged, with
white walls, white iron bed and simple furnishings.

"Thank you," said Miss Witherspoon, "I am sure I like it very much; and
really, I believe there is nothing I should like better than to lie down
myself."

She smiled again at Hertha, this time the pleasant, patronizing smile of
one who praises a good servant's work.

"I'll bring you some hot water," Hertha said.

When she had completed her arrangements for the new guest, she went back
to her seat, and laboriously, intently, worked on the white muslin with
its fine white lace.

There was a good