oke. At Lewis's words, so simple, so
child-like, the conscious flush died from Natalie's cheeks, her heart
steadied down, and her eyes filled with the sudden tears of sympathy.

"Dead, Lew? Your dad dead?"

She put her arms around him and kissed him softly; then she drew him to
a low rock. They sat down side by side.

"Tell Natalie," she said.

Lewis could never remember that hour with Natalie except as a whole.
Between the bursting of a dam and the moment when the pent-up waters
stretch to their utmost level and peace there is no division of time. He
knew only that it was like that with him. He had come in oppression, he
had found peace.

Then he looked up into Natalie's speaking face and knew that he had
found more. He had found again his old pal. "A pal is one who can't do
wrong who can't go wrong, who can't grow wrong." Who had said that?
H lne--H lne, who, never having seen Natalie save with the inner
vision, knew her for a friend. To Folly his body had cried, "Let us stay
young together!" To Natalie his blood, his body, and his soul were ready
to cry out, "Let us grow old together!"

Natalie had not followed the turn of his emotion. She broke in upon his
thought and brought him back.

"I never talked to your dad, but--we knew each other, we liked each
other."

Lewis started.

"That's funny," he said.

"Is it?" said Natalie. "I suppose it sounds odd, but--"

"No," interrupted Lewis, "that's not what I mean. It's odd because
H lne said just the same thing about you. She said you were great
friends--that women didn't have to know each other to be friends."

"They don't have to know men to be friends, either," said Natalie,
"unless--"

"Unless what?"

"Unless they love them. If they love them, they've got to know them
through and through to be friends. Love twists a woman's vision. Lots of
women are ruined because they can't wait to see through and through."

"Why, Nat," said Lewis, "you're talking like dad. Dad never
talks--talked--without turning on the light."

"Doesn't he?" said Natalie.

Lewis nodded.

"There are people that think of dad as a bad man. He has told me so. But
he wasn't bad to me or to H lne or Nelton or Old William, and we're the
ones that knew him best."

For a time they were silent, then Natalie said: "Lew, you're older than
you ever were before. Is it just losing your dad?"

Lewis shook his head.

"No," he said, "it wasn't that. I finished growing up just after I got