trouble or to beckon. It had become merely a question of
getting through with this as creditably and easily as she might, and
passing on to the next, whatever that might prove to be.

The ground upon which she sat was cold and damp. Rosemary shivered a
little and was glad. Release might come in that way, though she doubted
it. She was too hopelessly healthy ever to take cold, and in all her
five and twenty years had never had a day's illness.

A step beside her startled her and a kindly voice said: "Why, Rosemary!
You'll take cold!"

Crimson with embarrassment she sprang to her feet, shaking the soil from
her skirts. "I--I didn't hear you coming," she stammered. "I must go."

[Sidenote: New Plans]

"Please don't," Alden responded. "Remember how long it is since I've
seen you. How did you happen to come up here?"

"Because--oh, I don't know! I've come sometimes to see the vineyard.
I've--I've liked to watch the people at work," she concluded, lamely. "I
see so few people, you know."

Alden's face softened with vague tenderness. "Was it just this last
Summer you've been coming, or has it been all along?"

"I've always come--ever since I was big enough to climb the hill. I--I
used to steal grapes sometimes," she confessed, "before I knew it was
wrong."

"You can have all the grapes you want," he laughed. "I'll send you a
basket every day, if you want them, as long as the season lasts. Why
didn't you tell me before?"

"I--I never thought," she answered. She might have added that she was
not accustomed to the idea of any sort of gift, but she did not put the
thought into words.

"Come over here, Rosemary. I want to show you something--tell you about
some new plans of mine."

He led her to the group of workers' houses back of the pines. A great
deal of repairing had been done and every house was habitable, if not
actually comfortable. They had all been furnished with quiet good taste,
and had been freshly whitewashed, both inside and out. There was a
great pile of cots and a stack of new blankets.

[Sidenote: The Hospital]

"What is it?" asked Rosemary, much interested.

"The Marsh Tuberculosis Hospital," he answered. His face was beaming.

"I--I don't understand."

"Don't you? Well, it's simple enough. If I hadn't been all kinds of an
idiot and blindly selfish I'd have thought of it before. One of the men
who came to pick grapes this year has a wife at home with tuberculosis.
All she needs is to lie on