few moments later, when dancing was resumed, Clayton heard his
voice at his ear:

"You'd better go upstairs 'n' wait till it's time to go," he said. " He
hev got roused ag'in ye, and ag'in me too. I'll keep out o' his way so
as not to aggravate him, but I'll stay hyar fer fear something will
happen. Mebbe he'll sober up a little, but I'm afeard he'll drink
more'n ever."

A moment later, unseen by the rest, the two mounted the stairway
to the little room where Easter's girlhood had been passed. To
Clayton the peace of the primitive little chamber was an infinite
relief. A dim light showed a rude bed in one corner and a pine
table close by, whereon lay a few books and a pen and an
ink-bottle. Above, the roof rose to a sharp angle, and the low,
unplastered walls were covered with pietures cut from the books
he had given her. A single window opened into the night over the
valley and to the mountains beyond. Two small cane-bottom chairs
were near this, and in these they sat down. In the east dark clouds
were moving swiftly across the face of the moon, checking its light
anJ giving the dim valley startling depth and blackness.
Rain-drops struck the roof at intervals, a shower of apple-blossoms
rustled against the window and drifted on, and below the muffled
sound of music and shuffling feet was now and then pierced by the
shrill calls of the prompter. There was something ominous in the
persistent tread of feet and the steady flight of the gloomy clouds,
and quivering with vague fears, Easter sank down from her chair to
Clayton's feet, and burst into tears, as he put his arms tenderly
about her.