"No," Miss Smith ventured.

And then the girl crouched at her feet and told the dream and the
story. Many factors were involved that were quite foreign to the older
woman's nature and training. The recital brought to her New England mind
many questions of policy and propriety. And yet, as she looked down upon
the dark face, hot with enthusiasm, it all seemed somehow more than
right. Slowly and lightly Miss Smith slipped her arm about Zora, and
nodded and smiled a perfect understanding. They looked out together into
the darkening twilight.

"It is so late and wet and you're tired tonight--don't you think you'd
better sleep in your little room?"

Zora sat still. She thought of the noisy flaming cabin and the dark
swamp; but a contrasting thought of the white bed made her timid, and
slowly she shook her head. Nevertheless Miss Smith led her to the room.

"Here are things for you to wear," she pointed out, opening the bureau,
"and here is the bath-room." She left the girl standing in the middle of
the floor.

In time Zora came to stay often at Miss Smith's cottage, and to learn
new and unknown ways of living and dressing. She still refused to board,
for that would cost more than she could pay yet, and she would accept no
charity. Gradually an undemonstrative friendship sprang up between the
pale old gray-haired teacher and the dark young black-haired girl.
Delicately, too, but gradually, the companionship of Bles and Zora was
guided and regulated. Of mornings Zora would hurry through her lessons