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for we had a lovely, exciting time visiting at the Gregorys' upin Scotland while waiting for state-rooms. And it was while hearing allthose Scotchmen and Englishmen talk about statesmanship andjurisprudence and international law that I realized how America wouldneed great brains later on, more and more, as she would have toarbitrate, maybe, for the whole world.

  I smiled inwardly as I listened, for didn't I know that in just a fewyears the nation would have Samuel Foster Crittenden to rely on? Sam isa statesman by inheritance, for he has all sorts of remarkable Tennesseeancestry back of him from Colonial times down to his father's father,who was one of the great generals of our own Civil War. And as Ilistened to those splendid men talk about military matters, just asJudge Crittenden had talked to Sam and me about his father, the general,ever since we were big enough to sit up and hear about it, and discusswhat American brains and character could be depended upon to do, Iglowed with pride and confidence in Sam. I'm glad I didn't know thenabout the collapsed structure of my hopes for him that Sam was even thensecretly unsettling. At the thought my hand trembled on the wheel and Iturned my car hastily away from two chickens and a dog in the road andmy mind from the anxiety of Sam to further pleasant thoughts of Peter.

  I don't believe Judge Vandyne's thoughts of Peter are as pleasant asmine, for Peter doesn't go to the office at all any more; he spends hiswaking moments at a club where players and play-writers and all menplay a great deal of the time. I forget its name, but it makes the judgemad to mention it.

  "The dear old governor's mind is gold-bound," said Peter, sadly, afterwe came away from luncheon with the judge down in Wall Street. "Whyshould I grub filthy money when he has extracted the bulk of it that hehas? I must go forward and he must realize that he should urge me on up.I ought not to be tied down to unimportant material things. I must notbe. You of all people understand me and my ambitions, Betty." As he saidit he leaned toward me across the tea-table at the Astor, where we haddropped exhaustedly down to finish the discussion on life which thejudge's practical tirade had evoked.

  "But then, Peter, you know it was a very great thing Judge Vandyneshowed his bank how to do about that international war loan. In Englandand Scotland they speak of him with bated breath. It was so brilliantthat it saved awful complications for Belgium."

  "Oh, he's the greatest ever--in all material ways," answered Peter, withhasty loyalty and some pride, "but I was speaking of those higherthings, Betty, of the spirit. The things over which your soul and mineseem to draw near to each other. Betty, the second act of 'TheEmergence' is almost finished, and Farrington is going to read ithimself when I have it ready. He told me so at the club just yesterday.You know he awarded my junior prize for the 'Idyl.' Think ofit--_Farrington_!" And Peter leaned forward and took my hand.

  "Oh, Peter, I am so glad!" I said, with a catch of joy in my breath, butI drew away my hand. I knew I liked Peter in many wonderful ways, but insome others I was doubtful. I had only known Peter the three years I'vebeen away from Hayesboro, being finished in the North, and even if I didroom with his sister at the Manor on the Hudson and travel with her ayear, it is not the same as being born next door to him, as in the caseof Sam, for instance. But then I ought not to compare Peter and Sam.Peter is of so much finer clay than Sam. Just thinking about clay mademe remember those unspeakable boots of Sam's I had encountered out onthe road, and again I determinedly turned my thoughts back to thatwonderful afternoon with Peter at the Astor a few short days ago. MissGreenough kept telling Mabel and me all over Europe to look ateverything as material to build nests of pleasant thoughts for our soulsto rest in, as Ruskin directed in the book she had. I've made one thatwill last me for life of Peter, who is the most beautiful man in thewhole wide world; also of the yellow shade on the Astor lamp, thefountain, and the best chicken sandwich I ever ate. It will be a warmerplace to plump down in than most of the picture-galleries and cathedralsI had used for nest-construction purposes at Miss Greenough's direction.

  Yes, I drew my hand away from Peter's, but a little thing like thatwould never stop a poet; and before the waiter had quite swept us outwith the rest of the tea paraphernalia to make way for that of dinner hehad made me see that I was positively necessary to his career,especially as both his father and Mabel are so unsympathetic. It is agreat happiness to a woman to feel necessary to a man, though she maynot enjoy it entirely.

  "Oh, I know I can write it all--all that is in my heart if I feel thatit is--is for you, dearest dear Betty," was the last thing that Petersaid as he put me on a train headed for the Harpeth Valley that night.

  I didn't answer--I don't know that I ever did answer Peter anything, buthe never noticed that when he thought of how my loving him would helpout with the play.

  Just here I was musing so deeply on the intricacies of love that Inearly ran over a nice, motherly old cow that had come to the middle ofthe road with perfectly good faith in me when she saw me coming. And asI rounded her off well to the left again my thoughts skidded back to Samand the way he had treated me as less than a heifer calf after _I_ hadnot seen him for a year, and _she_ had just seen him that morning atfeeding-time.

  "Head off that saucy young cow, indeed!" I sniffed, as I ran the carinto the side yard between my home and the old Crittenden house.

  "I wonder if he really expected me to be waiting there in that lane forhim?" I questioned myself. And the answer I got from the six-year-oldgirl that is buried alive in me was that Sam did expect me to do as hetold me, and that something serious might happen if I didn't. As Iturned Redwheels over to old Eph, who adores it because it is the onlyone he ever had his hands on, I felt a queer sinking somewhere in theheart of that same young self. I always had helped Sam--and suppose thatunspeakable animal had got lost to him for ever just because I hadn'tdone as he told me! I reached out my hand for the runabout to startright back; then I realized it was too late. The night had erected alovely spangled purple tent of twilight over Hayesboro, and theall-evening performances were about to begin.

  Lovely women were lighting lamps and drawing shades or meeting themasculine population at front gates with babies in their arms orbeau-catcher curls set on their cheeks with deadly intent. Negro cookswere hustling suppers on their smoking stoves, and one of the doves thatlives up in the vines under the eaves of my home moaned out and wasanswered by one from under the vines that grow over the gables at theCrittendens'. I haven't felt as lonesome as all that since the firstweek of Sam's freshman year at college. As I looked across the lilachedge, which was just beginning to show a green sap tint along its graybranches, I seemed to see my poor little blue-ginghamed, pigtailed selfcrouched at Judge Crittenden's feet on the front steps, sobbing mylonely heart away while he smoked his sorrow down with a long brierpipe, and the Byrd chirped his little three-year-old protest in concertwith us both. Most eighteen-year-old men would have resented having amotherless little brother and a long-legged girl neighbor eternally attheir heels, but Sam never had; or, if he did, he gently kicked the Byrdand me out of the way, and we never knew that was what he was doing. Weeven loved him for the kicks. Then as the tears misted across my eyes awoman with a baby in her arms came out and called in two children whowere playing under the old willow-tree over by the side gate--the willowthat had belonged to Sam and me--and my eyes dried themselves withindignant astonishment.

  "Who are those people over at the Crittendens', mother?" I asked, in astern voice, as I walked in and interrupted mother counting thefifteenth row on a lace mat she was making.

  "Why, the Burtons bought the place from Sam after the judge's death.Don't you remember I wrote you about it, Betty dear?" she answered, withthe gentle placidity with which she has always met all my tragicmoments. Mother raised seven boys before she produced me, and hercapacity for any sort of responsive excitement gave out long before Ineeded it. After her sons a woman seems to consider a daughter just atame edition of a child. Mother has calmly crocheted herself throughevery soul-storm I have ever had, and she is the most dear andirresponsible parent an exec
utive girl would wish to have leave heraffairs alone. As for daddy, he has always smiled and beckoned me awayfrom her into a corner and given me what I was making a stand for. Myfather loves me with such confidence that he pays no attention to mewhatever except when he thinks it is about time for him to write my nameon a check. His phosphate deals have made him rich in anun-Hayesboro-like way, and all the boys are in business for him indifferent states, except the oldest one, who is Congressman from thisdistrict, and one other who is in a Chicago bank. Yes, I know I have themost satisfactorily aloof family in the wide world. I can just go onfeeding on their love and depend upon them not to interfere with any ofmy plans for living life. However, if anything happens to me I can besure that their love will spring up