"For Heaven's sake, Sylvia! Where did you pick up all this information
about farming?"

"From Uncle Mat--but I'll tell you all about that some other time. The
question is now, 'Will you go?'"

"God bless you, _yes_!"

"That's settled, then," she cried happily. "I was fairly trembling with
fear that you'd refuse. Why _is_ it so hard for you to accept things?"

"I don't know. I've been bitter all my life because I've had to go
without so much, and this summer I've been equally bitter because things
were changing. It must be just natural cussedness--but I'm honestly going
to try to do better."

"We've got to stay here until morning, haven't we?"

"I'm afraid we have. You can't walk, and even if you could, the chances
are ten to one against our finding the highroad in this Egyptian
darkness! When the sun comes up, I can pick my own way along through the
underbrush all right, and carry you at the same time. You must weigh
about ninety pounds."

"I weigh one hundred and ten! The idea!--There's really no chance, then,
of our moving for several hours?"

"I'm sorry--but you must see there is not. Does it seem as if you
couldn't bear being so dreadfully uncomfortable that much longer?"