aid to,
now."

CHAPTER XXX.

SAMMY GRADUATES.

The next day when young Stewart came, the books were all back on
the shelf in the main room of the cabin, and Sammy, dressed in a
fresh gown of simple goods and fashion, with her hair arranged
carefully, as she had worn it the last two months before Ollie's
coming, sat at the window reading.

The man was surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, what have
you been doing to yourself?" he exclaimed.

"I have not been doing anything to myself. I have only done some
things to my clothes and hair," returned the girl.

Then he saw the books. "Why, where did these come from?" He crossed
the room to examine the volumes. "Do you--do you read all these?"

"The shepherd has been helping me," she explained.

"Oh, yes. I understood that you were studying with him." He looked
at her curiously, as though they were meeting for the first time.
Then, as she talked of her studies, his embarrassment deepened,
for he found himself foundering hopelessly before this clear-eyed,
clear-brained backwoods girl.

"Come," said Sammy at last. "Let us go for a walk." She led the
way to her favorite spot, high up on the shoulder of Dewey, and
there, with Mutton Hollow at their feet and the big hills about
them, with the long blue ridges in the distance beyond which lay
Ollie's world, she told him what he feared to learn. The man
refused to believe that he heard aright. "You do not understand,"
he protested, and he tried to tell her of the place in life that
would be hers as his wife. In his shallowness, he talked even of
jewels, and dresses, and such things.

"But can all this add one thing to life itself?" she asked. "Is
not life really independent of all these things? Do they not
indeed cover up the real life, and rob one of freedom? It seems to
me that it must be so."

He could only answer, "But you know nothing about it. How can you?
You have never been out of these woods."

"No," she returned, "that is true; I have never been out of these
woods, and you can never, now, get away from the world into which
you have gone." She pointed to the distant hills. "It is very,
very far over there to where you live. I might, indeed, find many
things in your world that would be delightful; but I fear that I
should lose the things that after all are, to me, the really big
things. I do not feel that the things that are greatest in your
life could bring happiness without that which I find