curtained, no doormat so accurately placed, no "yard" in the rear so tidy
with morning-glory vines over the whitewashed fence.

The June moon had risen, sending broken shafts of white light through the
ailanthus to the house door. When the girl came at last, she stepped out
into a world of soft lights and wavering shadows, fragrant with tree
blossoms not yet overpowering, hushed of its daylight sounds of playing
children and moving traffic.

The house had been warm. Her brown hair lay moist on her forehead, her
thin white dress was turned in at the throat. She stood on the steps, the
door closed behind her, and threw out her arms in a swift gesture to the
cool air. The moonlight clothed her as with a garment. From across the
Street the boy watched her with adoring, humble eyes. All his courage was
for those hours when he was not with her.

"Hello, Joe."

"Hello, Sidney."

He crossed over, emerging out of the shadows into her enveloping radiance.
His ardent young eyes worshiped her as he stood on the pavement.

"I'm late. I was taking out bastings for mother."

"Oh, that's all right."

Sidney sat down on the doorstep, and the boy dropped at her feet.

"I thought of going to prayer meeting, but mother was tired. Was Christine