"No, but it is mine."

"Why is it yours?"

"Because it was given to me."

"But you don't need it; you've got four other prettier ones--I counted."

"That makes no difference."

"Yes it does--folks ain't got no right to things they don't need."

"That makes no difference, Zora, and you know it. The pin is mine. You
stole it. If you had wanted a pin and asked me I might have given you--"

The girl blazed.

"I don't want your old gifts," she almost hissed. "You don't own what
you don't need and can't use. God owns it and I'm going to send it back
to Him."

With a swift motion she whipped the pin from her pocket and raised her
arm to hurl it into the swamp. Bles caught her hand. He caught it
lightly and smiled sorrowfully into her eyes. She wavered a moment, then
the answering light sprang to her face. Dropping the brooch into his
hand, she wheeled and fled toward the cabin.

Bles handed it silently to Miss Taylor. Mary Taylor was beside herself
with impatient anger--and anger intensified by a conviction of utter
helplessness to cope with any strained or unusual situations between