where I am at home."
"Most girls marry," Tom remarked after a few moments, "and so do most fellers. The boys round here ain't your kind. I don't wonder you don't notice 'em. But they's fine chaps down there," pointing down the stream, "lawyers, and doctors and teachers."
The girl looked at her brother a little curiously as though wondering if he meant more than he said.
"Well, this is the first time you've tried to marry me off! Mammy talks that way and Ellen wants me to choose a career, but I thought you loved Merryvale like I do and were only sorry to go away."
"It's natural for the human being ter marry," Tom went on sententiously. "Don't think I will though," he added, "Ef you marry you don't have a chance to think. Now it might be, jest as I was thinking something very important, my wife 'ud interrupt and have a baby!"
There was a finality in this remark that left them in silence, and dropping plans for the future they watched the light clouds gather in masses in the deep blue sky until it was time to start homeward.
When they were within a short distance of the great house, rain began to fall, and by the time they had reached the live-oaks there was a downpour.
"Come up here," Lee Merryvale called authoritatively from the porch.
It was the front porch and they had no thought of setting foot on it, expecting instead to run for shelter to the kitchen door. Hertha moved forward but Tom drew back until Merryvale again commanded them to come.
"You're wet," he said to Hertha as she stepped on the porch. And then turning sharply to Tom: "Can't you take care of your sister better than this?"
"I'm all right," Hertha said quickly, abashed at the importance given to her. "Come up, Tom," she said calling to him, but he remained standing in the rain.
"You can go home if you want," Lee Merryvale nodded his head toward Tom, "and Hertha can stay here until it stops. Don't you know we're sure to have a shower in the afternoon?"
"It arrived ahead of time to-day," Hertha explained. And then noting Tom on the wet sand, the rain beginning to soak through his coat, her motherliness got the better of her embarrassment. "Come up on the porch," she said coaxingly. "I'll run upstairs and get a coat I keep here for just such a time as this. I won't be a moment. Please!"
He mounted the steps to please her and then walked to the end that was furthest from Merryvale.
The white man sat down in a porch chair, threw his head back, crossed his knees, and began to smoke.
"You smoke, Tom?"
"No, sir."
"The first thing you'll do when you go to school will be to smoke; not because you like it but because it's against the rules. Break all the rules you can, my boy, and get sent home, for you're needed here."
"Naw," Tom replied turning at him and almost snarling, "I ain't no use."
Young Merryvale regarded the boy with some amazement, then noting the grimness of his expression, said nothing further. In a moment Hertha, wearing her long coat, came down the stairs and she and her brother went on their way.
Before he went to his room that night, Tom spoke a word alone with Ellen. "Don't let Sister grieve too much," he said.
Ellen looked at him sadly. "You put me in a very hard position, Tom. You make me seem almost cruel."
"Never mind about that. What's done can't be mended. But don't let Hertha grieve—not if you can help it."
He kissed his older sister good-night and went into his little room, there to sit upon his trunk and with his face in his hands bury himself in thought.
"Ef I was any use," he said, "Ellen couldn't drag me away; but I ain't the brother she needs."
He stepped up the gangway into the little boat the next morning like a man. They were all there to see him off: his mother wiping her eyes and telling him to be her good boy; Ellen, resolute, not giving way to her sorrow; and Hertha, his beautiful sister, waving her handkerchief, her lips trying to smile. He watched them until the boat was far out in the stream; and then, with a very sober face, took his seat where he could look ahead toward the nearing sea.
CHAPTER III
It was still early morning when the boat left the dock and the three women walked back toward their home after their good-by to Tom. No one spoke for a time and then Aunt Maggie said impressively, "Dere ain't no use in cryin' 'bout what yer can't help. Tom's gone, but maybe it'll make a man o' him; maybe it were best fer him ter leabe de women folk. Heah 'tis, Monday morning. Ellen, hab yer settle in yer mind which o' de boys gits de washin' ter my folks?"
"I suppose," said Hertha, "it will be either Thaddeus Jackson or Obadiah Thomas."
"It will be Thaddeus," Ellen answered. "He will do it all right, Mammy, because his father lets him save his money."
"I hope he isn't saving to go to school," said Hertha; and then, quite unexpectedly to herself, laughed. She had been living so many days weighted with sorrow that the sailing of the boat had come as a relief. There was no good, as her mother said, to rebel against the inevitable; and while she would miss her brother, who had grown to be a companion in thought and interests, and who yet could never outgrow his place as her baby, it could not be right to look upon his absence as a calamity like sickness or death. So she gave her little laugh and her mother looked at her with pleasure and relief.
"Dere goes Ellen," Aunt Maggie said, as her elder daughter went past them the sooner to get to her work. "You an' I believes as de door o' heben's open ter dem as walks slow. I's glad you kin laugh, honey. We ain't lose Tom fer good. An' soon de winter'll come, an' moe folks a-staying at de great house, an' den de summer an' de dear boy home ag'in."
Talking on in slow, comfortable phrases, stopping often to get her breath, Hertha's mammy walked with her among the pines to their tidy front yard where golden glow and asters told of the autumn.
"It seems later than it is, doesn't it?" said Hertha, "we've been up so long. I think I'll go to Miss Patty right now."
There were two paths to the great house. The well-traveled one led past a number of cabins, and ended near the kitchen door. It was the shorter but Hertha chose a more attractive way among the pines to where a cypress marked the beginning of the orange grove. She had taken this route long before Lee Merryvale's return; and while he had closed it generally to dwellers among the pines, Miss Patty assured her maid she could use it as much as she wished.
She had only walked a little way when she saw Merryvale himself examining his cherished possessions.
"Come over here, won't you?" he called out. "There's no one up at the house yet."
Hertha went shyly toward him. He was a handsome man with reddish gold hair, clear eyes, and a glowing skin. His hat was off, he wore a soft shirt with collar thrown open, and altogether looked an attractive combination of the farmer and the gentleman.
As she came up he said sympathetically, "You must be feeling pretty badly to-day at
