and ears filled with twigs and dried grasses, was sufficiently pagan
and horrible to demand an entirely unique form of worship, and this
Priscilla proceeded to evolve. She invented weird words, meaningless but
high-sounding; she propitiated her idol with wild dances and an abandon
of restraint. Before it she had moments of strange silence when, with
wonder-filled eyes, she waited for suggestion and impression by which to
be guided. Very young was she when intuitively she sensed the inner call
that was always so deeply to sway her. Through the years from eight to
fourteen Priscilla worshipped more or less frequently before her secret
shrine. The uncanny ceremony eased many an overstrained hour and did for
the girl what should have been done in a more normal way. The place on
the red rock became her sanctuary. To it she carried her daily task of
sewing and dreamed her long dreams.

The Glenns rarely went to church--the distance was too great--but
Nathaniel, looming high and stern across the table in the bare kitchen,
morning and night, set forth the rigid, unlovely creed of his belief.
This fell upon Priscilla's unheeding ears, but the hours before the
shrine were deeply, tenderly religious, although they were bright and
merry hours.

Of course, during the years, there were the regular Kenmore happenings
that impressed the girl to a greater or lesser degree, but they were like
pictures thrown upon a screen--they came, they went, while her inner
growth was steady and sure.

Two families, one familiar and commonplace, the other more mystical than
anything else, interested Priscilla mightily during her early youth.
Jerry and Michael McAlpin, with little Jerry-Jo, the son of old Jerry,
were vital factors in Kenmore. They occupied the exalted position of