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I will not send word back to the In-Place." Farwell frowned. "Boswell has touched you with his fanciful methods," he muttered; "is it for the best?" "I am sure it is. And my my people, Master Farwell, my mother?" At this Farwell started and stepped back. The light from an electric lamp fell full on the girl's quivering, brilliant face. He had told Boswell of the mother's death.
It's quite an idea. Quite an original idea. But as to my spending money on your graduation, a little more added to what you already owe me will not count, and, besides, there is that trifle left from Farwell's loan still to your credit." "Now, Mr. Boswell, don't press me too close! I was a sad innocent when I came from the In-Place, and a joke is a joke, but you mustn't bank on it."
If she were bent upon her course, if his hand could not rest upon the tiller of her untested craft when she put out to sea, what could he do for her? To whom turn? "Is there not one, Master Farwell, just one, out beyond the In-Place, who, for your sake, would help me at first until I learned the way?" The question chimed in with Farwell's thought.
I see it now the dance! Don't you remember? The dance at the Swiss village?" "And the the tune that made me cry. Who are How did you know that tune? How did you know the In-Place?" Their hands touched and clung now, desperately. Together they must find their way out. "I am I was the boy of the Far Hill Place. I played for you once to dance right here!"
"I've starved and slept in dark holes for you, and now you and him have got to take care of me or I'll tell! I'll tell, as sure as God hears me!" "We will take care of you, Jerry-Jo. There! there! I promise; and you know we of the In-Place stand by each other." He was comforted at last, and fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion.
They two, Margaret of the high-soul, and she, Priscilla Glenn of the understanding devotion, seemed to stand apart and alone, each, in her way, called upon to testify and act. "It must be done!" moaned Priscilla; "she must know and decide! But how? how?" John Boswell and Master Farwell were gone to the In-Place. The sanctuary overlooking the river was closed.
It was springtime, and the red rocks and hemlocks shone and the water sparkled; she heard it lapping against the tiny islands, so glad was it to be free of the winter's grasp. Some one was dancing to the Spring's Call a small, graceful thing with a bright red cape flying on the wind, the soft wind of the In-Place. There was music, too!
One early September afternoon Priscilla presented herself at Farwell's cabin in so startling a manner that she roused the man as nothing previously in his association with her had ever done. He was sitting at the west window of his living-room, his back toward the door leading to the Green. For a wonder, what he was reading had absorbed him, and he was far and away from the In-Place.
It grew strong and sure underground before it ventured up. It blossomed last summer; an odd flower it had. I think I am like that. You've taught me to well, know myself. I shall not shame you, Master Farwell. You know we of the lonesome In-Place make friends with strange objects; everything in nature talks to us, if we will but listen. You have taught me to listen, too.
For a time he had permitted her to see and know him the simple, good man he really was. In short, Priscilla could no longer play, could no longer make a defence of her shyness and ignorance; she realized that she must plunge into the whirlpool for which she had left the In-Place and she must do so at once.
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