"It's a real outlandish city for morals, Levi."

"Well, it will make me glad to get back to Boston, Matilda," Levi chuckled. "Now lie down and try to sleep."

"I feel real drowsy, Levi. My! how much I have got to be grateful for.

You are a good man, brother. Time was when I feared success might harden you."

Levi did not rest well that night. Alone in his prim, old-fashioned chamber he lay and made plans for the future.

"And after we come back," he thought, "I'm going to send Sandy up to the hills with blank checks in his pocket. I'm going to see what he can do in the way of redeeming Lost Hollow. He'll never be happy away from that God-forsaken place--it's in his soul and system. There's that land, too, I bought seven years ago! That oughtn't to be lying fallow."

Then his roving thoughts settled on his sister. "Matilda must consent to more help here in the house--she looks peaked."

A sharp pang brought him to an upright position. He seemed to be beside lonely Sandy as he had stood that very day by an obscure grave--somewhere in a shabby little graveyard.

"Matilda has been one sister in ten thousand and she's asked precious little. Caroline got things quite naturally while she lived at home--'Tilda took the leavings always and patched, somehow, a thankful, beautiful life out of them. She's going to get whole pieces of cloth from now----" he muttered, "with Sandy thrown in."

CHAPTER XVII

Perhaps it was the spring air; perhaps it was the turn in the tide of Cynthia Walden's life, but whatever it was it roused her and gripped her from early morning. At six o'clock on that May day she awoke in her shabby room of Stoneledge and looked out of the vine-covered window, heard a bird sing a wild, delicious little song, and then sat up with the strange thrill of happiness flooding her heart and soul.

It was a warm morning, more like late June than late May, and both the bird and the girl felt the joy in the promise of summer.

At nineteen Cynthia, like the spring morn, bore the mark of her coming fulfillment of beauty. She was very lovely, tall, slim, slightly bending, like a reed that had bowed to the wind instead of resisting.

The child look, full of question and waiting, was still in her clear blue-gray eyes; the well-formed mouth had not forgotten its pretty, slow smile, and the pale, exquisite whiteness of the smooth skin was touched with a delicate tan and colour that did credit totally Taber's care and culinary art.

"I feel," whispered the girl, tossing the braids of her smooth gold-brown hair back from her face; "I declare I feel as if something was going to happen long o' me!"

Not for a moment did Cynthia imagine anything ill. Out of a barren, isolated life she had evolved and held to the strict philosophy she had once confided to Marcia Lowe in the little church. If trouble overtook her, she shielded herself as well as possible, smiled pleadingly and stepped aside. At such courtesy Trouble had obligingly gone on leaving the girl of nineteen as trusting and hopeful as a child. The old house had crumbled and tottered. Ann Walden had sunk into positive imbecility--but Cynthia had kept her faith and love. Sally Taber still ruled the Great House under the disguise of grateful dependent. She slept in the loft over the kitchen, made life a possible thing for a helpless woman and a young girl, and asked nothing for herself in return.

"If that woman doesn't have a crown studded two deep with jewels some day," Marcia Lowe confided to Tod Greeley, "I'll miss my guess."

And Tod, for various reasons, did what he could to show his appreciation of the old woman's nobility.

"Yo' sho' do give proper weight to us-all." Sally often told him.

"Things do las' mor'n one could expect, fo' de money."

"I ain't goin' to run the risk of any pesky government investigation,"

Greeley replied. "Better be on the safe side, I reckon."

And now Cynthia again remarked to the pretty May morning:

"I feel as if something was going to happen 'long o' me."

Then she got up and made her simple toilet. The shining braids were wound coronet-style about the shapely head, and some moments were devoted to the choice of a gown. There were three hanging on nails behind the door leading to the hall; a checked gingham, brown, ugly and serviceable; a faded pink chambray, and a new, dull blue linen. This last was a gift from Marcia Lowe. It was the longest, most modern garment Cynthia possessed, and the colour filled her awakening artistic sense with delight.

"This one!" she murmured, and smiled at her own senseless extravagance.

"I reckon it's right silly," she said; "but it's mighty good fun to wear your Sunday frock on a Thursday!"

Then arrayed and glowing with pride Cynthia contemplated herself in her tiny mirror.

"If something happens 'long o' me," she nodded in friendly fashion into the glass, "it will find me ready."

After breakfast she meant to go to Trouble Neck and help Marcia Lowe with her "school." The little doctor's school was the newest and most exciting innovation in The Hollow. The student list was elastic and all embracing. Every department of life was taught, as and how it were possible. The timid, blighted little folks were lured to the cabin by all means at Miss Lowe's command and fed such crumbs as their poor wits could comprehend.

"Let's flip out the grains, Cynthia, dear," the little doctor urged; "perhaps some chick can swallow them. We must make hay while the sun shines. Crothers' new factory is looming up and when that whistle blows, good-bye to the Trouble Neck Academy!"

It had taken nearly seven years for Smith Crothers to collect his insurance, recover his health, and begin his business career again. He had left The Forge for two years, and since his return had gone slowly about his work of rebuilding and entering the arena. Whatever he thought or remembered of the night when his factory was burned, no one, but himself, knew. From a grim shadow of his former self he regained his health and looks; he nodded to Cynthia when he met her on The Way and the girl tossed her head at him indifferently. Only Marcia Lowe was anxious.

"Cynthia," she said, "promise me that you will not wander in the woods alone!"

"Not without a pistol," the girl replied. "I'm a mighty good shot, dear Cup-of-Cold-Water Lady!"

But Marcia Lowe shook her head.

When Cynthia went downstairs that May morning, Sally Taber had the plain breakfast on the dining-room table, and her face looked drawn and worried.

"Miss Cyn," she said, when she had set the corn bread and milk before the girl, "las' night ole Miss war right troublesome."

"You have been up a good deal, Sally?"

"I sho' have. Ole Miss took to wandering and nothing would suit her but de libry. I done made a fire there and let her play. She done dig at the hearthstone an' laughed and babbled 'til long 'bout three o'clock, then I carried her upstairs and laid her in her bed same as if she was a lil' tired out babby."

"Dear Sally!" Cynthia's eyes shone. "I'll stay home to-day and let you sleep."

"I reckon you will do nothin' like that! Ole Miss will be good for mos' the mornin' an' I'se goin' to patch up the libry. If ole Miss takes a fancy to that-er-room, she goin' to have what she wants! If she wants to pick 'long o' the hearthstone, she is goin' to do that; I'll loosen it up."

"I will watch her to-night, then!" Cynthia said, "and I'll be back right early this evening, Sally."

Just as Cynthia reached The Way, she met Martin Morley.

"Good morning, lil' Miss Cyn," he greeted; "seems like you be part of this yere pretty day."

"Good morning, Mr. Morley. You look right smart and dandified."

Morley was neatly and decently attired and his calm, clear eyes were steady and full of purpose. The "charm" had held good with him, and ever since the well-fought battle in the little doctor's lean-to chamber, he had gradually worked his way back to self-respect and content. Mary and Molly had drifted from his life so effectually that he had accepted the inevitable and never mentioned their names.

"Where you going, Mr. Morley?"

"I am going down to The Forge," Martin answered. "They-all say the young manager for that company what's going to build a factory up higher has come, and I'm going to try and get a job."

"Do you believe there _is_ going to be a factory, Mr. Morley? Do you believe Smith Crothers would let any one have a factory so near his?"

"They-all do say, Miss Cynthia, that that-er company what sends this young man, is powerful rich and upperty. They-all do say that-er company ain't so much as consulted with Smith Crothers."