pointing as the last lot. There wasn't
a thing I could ask Rosemary to read. I'm continually falling back on
the old ones."

"The old books are the best, after all, like the old friends and the old
ways."

Alden walked around the room restlessly, his hands in his pockets. At
length he paused before the window overlooking the vineyard, on the
other side of the valley. The slope was bare of snow, now; the vines
waited the call of Spring.

[Sidenote: Alden's Revolt]

A soft footfall sounded beside him, then his mother put a caressing hand
upon his shoulder. "It's almost time to begin, isn't it?" she asked. Her
beautiful old face was radiant.

Impatiently, he shook himself free from her touch. "Mother," he began,
"let's have it out once for all. I can't stand this any longer."

She sank into the nearest chair, with all the life suddenly gone from
her face and figure. In a moment she had grown old, but presently, with
an effort, she regained her self-command. "Yes?" she returned, quietly.
"What do you wish to do?"

"Anything," he answered, abruptly--"anything but this. I want to get out
where I can breathe, where the sky fits the ground as far as you can
see--where it isn't eternally broken into by these everlasting hills.
I'd like to know that dinner wouldn't always be ready at seven
o'clock--in fact, I'd like sometimes not to have any dinner at all. I
want to get forty miles from a schoolhouse and two hundred miles from a
grape. I never want to see another grape as long as I live."

He knew that he was hurting her, but his insurgent youth demanded its
right of speech after long repression. "I'm a man," he cried, "and I
want to do a man's work in the world and take a man's place. Just
because my ancestors chose to slave in a treadmill, I don't have to
stay in it, do I? You have no right to keep me chained up here!"

[Sidenote: Released]

The clock ticked loudly in the hall, the canary hopped noisily about his
cage and chirped shrilly. A passing breeze came through the open window
and tinkled the prisms that hung from the chandelier. It sounded like
the echo of some far-away bell.

"No," said Madame, dully. "As you say, I have no right to keep you
chained up here."

"Mother!" he cried, with swift remorse. "Don't misunderstand me!"

She raised her hand and motioned him to the chair opposite. "Your
language is sufficiently explicit," she went on, clearing her throat.
"There is no chance for anyone to misunders