wed, more slowly. She got as far as the opened door of the
living room, then she paused, glanced about, and went in.

There are some rooms that repel; others that seem to rush forward with
warm welcome. The living room at Ridge House was one that made a
stranger feel as if he had long been expected and desired. It was not
unfamiliar to the old woman who now entered it. Through the windows she
had often held silent and unsuspected vigil. It was her way to know the
trails over which she might be called to travel and since that day,
three years before, when Sister Angela had met her on the road and made
her startling proposition, Becky had subconsciously known that, in due
time, she would be compelled to accept what then she had so angrily
refused.

On that first encounter Sister Angela had said:

"They tell me that you have a little granddaughter--a very pretty
child."

"Yo' mean Zalie?" Becky was on her guard.

"I did not know her name. How old is she?"

"Nigh onter fifteen." The strange eyes were holding Sister Angela's calm
gaze--the old woman was awaiting the time to spring.

"It is wrong to keep a young girl on that lonely peak away from
everyone, as I am told that you do. Won't you let her come to Ridge
House? We will teach her--fit her for some useful work."

Sister Angela at that time did not know her neighbours as well as she
later learned to know them. Becky came nearer, and her thin lips curled
back from her toothless jaws.

"You-all keep yo' hands off Zalie an' me! I kin larn my gal all she
needs to know. All other larnin' would harm her, and no Popish folk
ain't going to tech what's mine."

So that was what kept them apart!

Sister Angela drew back. For a moment she did not understand; then she
smiled and bent nearer.

"You think us Catholics? We are not; but if we were it would be just the
same. We are friendly women who really want to be neighbourly and
helpful."

"You all tote a cross!" Becky was interested.

"Yes. We bear the cross--it is a symbol of what we try to do--you need
not be afraid of us, and if there is ever a time when you need us--come
to Ridge House."

After that Becky had apparently disappeared, but often and often when
the night was stormy, or dark, she had walked stealthily down the trail
and taken her place by the windows of Ridge House. She knew the sunny,
orderly kitchen in which such strange food was prepared; she knew the
long, narrow dining room with its quaint c