"I don't believe it," she disputed, disappearing in the wood and
returning with a pine-knot. They lighted it and its smoky flame threw
wavering shadows about. She turned the leaves till she came to a picture
which she studied intently.

"Is this about this?" she asked, pointing alternately to reading and
picture.

"Yes. And if you learn--"

"Read it," she commanded. He read the page.

"Again," she said, making him point out each word. Then she read it
after him, accurately, with more perfect expression. He stared at her.
She took the book, and with a nod was gone.

It was Saturday and dark. She never asked Bles to her home--to that
mysterious black cabin in mid-swamp. He thought her ashamed of it, and
delicately refrained from going. So tonight she slipped away, stopped
and listened till she heard his footsteps on the pike, and then flew
homeward. Presently the old black cabin loomed before her with its wide
flapping door. The old woman was bending over the fire, stirring some
savory mess, and a yellow girl with a white baby on one arm was placing
dishes on a rickety wooden table when Zora suddenly and noiselessly
entered the door.

"Come, is you? I 'lowed victuals would fetch you," grumbled the hag.

But Zora deigned no answer. She walked placidly to the table, where she