preferred as her messenger. She made no secret of the fact, but
gave the note to the laborer when he came in to his nooning the
following day. She knew Roger was watching her from the front porch,
and as she turned toward him she saw she had wounded him so deeply
that she had some compunctions; but he avoided meeting her, nor
did she find a chance to speak to him again. When, an hour later,
she was ready to depart with Mr. Atwood for the distant landing,
Roger was not to be found. Her conscience smote her a little, but
she felt that it would be the best for him in the future, and would
probably end his nonsense about leaving home and winning fame out
in the world. She had a warm, genuine good-will for Mrs. Atwood and
Susan, and even for poor, grumbling Mr. Atwood, at whose meagre,
shrivelled life she often wondered; and it would be a source of
much pain to her if she became even the blameless cause of Roger's
leaving home in the absurd hope of eventually becoming great and
rich, and then appearing to her in her poverty, like a prince in
fairy lore. "Nothing but the most vigorous snubbing will bring him
to his senses," she thought, and she now believed that he would soon
subside into his old life, and be none the worse for the summer's
episode. Therefore, after embracing her mother again and again
in her room, she bade Mrs. Atwood and Susan good-by very kindly,
and they saw her depart with genuine regret. For Roger there was
nothing more than the quiet remark to Mrs. Atwood, "Please say
good-by for me to your son."

Belle and the children accompanied her to the landing, and were
in great glee over the long drive. Mildred's spirits rose also.
She had learned most emphatically that she was not dead to her
lover, and she thought her words, brief as they were, would cheer
and sustain him and suggest hope for the future. Although she was