tranger was a source of excitement. Her tailored gown,
of dark green broadcloth, the severe linen shirtwaist, and her simple
hat, were subjects of conversation that night in more than one humble
home, fading into insignificance only before her radiant hair. The
general opinion was that it must be a wig, or the untoward results of
some experiment with hair-dye, probably the latter, for, as the
postmaster's wife said, "nobody would buy a wig of that colour."

The school bell rang for dismissal, and filled her with sudden panic.
After walking through the village all the morning to escape luncheon
with Alden, it would be disagreeable to meet him face to face almost at
the schoolhouse door. Turning in the opposite direction, she walked
swiftly until she came to a hill, upon which an irregular path straggled
half-heartedly upward.

[Sidenote: The Finding of the Red Book]

So Edith climbed the Hill of the Muses, pausing several times to rest.
When she reached the top, she was agreeably surprised to find a
comfortable seat waiting her, even though it was only a log rolled back
against two trees. She sank back into the hollow, leaned against the
supporting oak, and wiped her flushed face.

Others had been there before her, evidently, for the turf was worn
around the log, and there were even hints of footprints here and there.
"Some rural trysting place, probably," she thought, then a gleam of
scarlet caught her attention. A small red book had fallen into the
crevice between the log and the other tree. "_The House of Life_," she
murmured, under her breath. "Now, who in this little village
would--unless----"

The book bore neither name nor initials, but almost every page was
marked. As it happened, most of them were favourite passages of her own.
"How idyllic!" she mused; "a pair of young lovers reading Rossetti on a
hill-top in Spring! Could anything be more pastoral? I'll take it back
to the house and tell about it at dinner."

[Sidenote: Mutually Surprised]

She welcomed it as a sure relief from a possible awkward moment. "I knew
I was right," she said to herself, as she turned the pages. "To-day was
set aside, long ago, for me to go a-gypsying."

The clear air of the heights and the sunlit valley beneath her gave her
a sense of proportion and of value which she realised she had sadly
needed. Free from the annoyances of her daily life, she could look back
upon it with due perspective, and see that her unhappiness had b