Jerome, striking out through the dewy wind of foot-path towards the
old barn, heard suddenly a voice calling him by name. It was a voice
as low and heavy as a man's, but had a nervous feminine impulse in
it. "Jerome!" it called. "Jerome Edwards!"

Jerome turned, and saw Paulina Maria coming up the road, walking with
a firm, swaying motion of her whole body from her feet, her cotton
draperies blowing around her like sheathing-leaves.

Jerome stood still a minute, watching her; then he went back to the
house, to the door, and stationed himself before it. He stood there
like a sentinel when Paulina Maria drew near. The meaning of war was
in his shoulder, his expanded boyish chest, his knitted brows, set
chin and mouth, and unflinching eyes; he needed only a sword or gun
to complete the picture.

Paulina Maria stopped, and looked at him with haughty wonder. She was
not yet intimidated, but she was surprised, and stirred with rising
indignation.

"How's your mother this morning, Jerome?" said she.

"Well 's she can be," replied Jerome, gruffly, with a wary eye upon
her skirts when they swung out over her advancing knee; for Paulina
Maria was minded to enter the house with no further words of parley.
He gathered himself up, in all his new armor of courage and defiance,
and stood firm in her path.

"I'm going in to see your mother," said Paulina Maria, looking at him