"I would be glad to lead you out of a narrow way," she replied, in a
tone so quiet and yet so rich that I was inclined to believe I had not
yet seen Miss Warren. Perhaps she saw that I was becoming conscious of
her existence, for I again detected the old mirthful light in her
eyes. Was I or Mr. Yocomb's remark the cause?

Who was Emily Warren anyway, and why must she be at the farmhouse at a
time when I so earnestly wished "the coast clear?" The perverse world
at last was asserting its true self, and there was promise of a
disturbance in my shining tide. Moreover, I was provoked that the one
remark of this Emily Warren had point to it, while my perfect flower
of womanhood had revealed nothing definitely save a good appetite, and
that she had no premonitions that this was the day of her destiny.




CHAPTER IV

REALITY


"Father," said my fair ideal abruptly, as if a bright idea had just
struck her, "did thee notice that Friend Jones's rockaway had been
painted and all fixed up? I guess he rather liked our keeping him
there before all the meeting."

"Mother, I hope thee'll be moved to preach about the charity that
thinketh no evil," said her father gravely.