night, and
ate silently amid the chatter of Babe and the monosyllabic answers of
her mother. Teola to break the strain spoke of the sleigh-ride and dance
coming off that evening.

"I fear it will be too cold," objected Mrs. Graves, in her fretful,
weary voice.

"I can wrap up warmly," argued Teola. "All the girls in town are going
and Dan will take care of me. We are going in separate sleighs to
Slaterville. I'm going, mother, and that's all there is to it."

"It seems to me that you are growing rather friendly with that young
Jordan, Teola," her father said. "He's been here every night for a week,
hasn't he?"

Teola muttered sullenly that she wasn't the only girl in town who had
callers, and looked pleadingly to Frederick for aid. The young student
flashed her a smile.

"Teola will be perfectly safe to-night, father," he exclaimed.

"Are you going?"

"No," answered Frederick, "but sister would be no safer if I were. I
have implicit confidencs in Dan Jordan and the country roads are
perfect.... By the way, Dan would like to take a class of boys in the
Sunday School. I told him to see you about it."

The mollified minister finished his meal without further comment.

* * * * *

The sleigh-ride was a thing of the past. That it had brought disaster to
Teola Graves showed in the tired eyes as they rested on the sky, gray
with the coming morning. She had stolen silently into the house,
reaching her chamber without disturbing either father or mother. At the
window she halted. Here and there a star sparkled, dying dim in the
advancing sky. Teola's eyes rested upon the street below for several
minutes, then dragged her gaze upward and beyond--beyond to the long
road that led to the yard of the dead which stretched over the hillside,
rearing its monuments among the leafless trees, like sentinels over
sleeping soldiers. There was something alluring, something compelling to
the pale girl, watching the birth of her first real day of living. The
University frowned down upon the graveyard; in its turn the graveyard
frowned menacingly upon the town. A snow-bird peeped a "good-morning" to
its mate in the Rectory eaves. A bell pealed out twice, striking the air
with its sonorous sound reverberating into the hills. And still the girl
stood waiting for--she knew not what.

Yesterday girlhood offered Teola Graves happy hours of peaceful
meditation--to-day, the new day brought the woman its ceasel