creep with their weird sweetness. Is it a wonder I was puzzled? I promised to help her, and I am going to do it. I know the task will be pleasant. I will escape monotony, and she will be improved, and in this way it will work good to both of us. I shall begin--but at this point in my cogitations there floated suddenly across the field of memory that tall, dark shadow standing on the Hebron road, still and stern. I took the pipe from my mouth and stood up. The sun had more than half completed its journey from zenith to horizon. I made another detour, looking for the best place to descend. I found it a short distance from where I had come up; almost a path, surprisingly easy to traverse. I carefully noted its location with reference to the points of the compass, and went down with practically no labor. Already I knew I should come back, for the spot held a strong attraction for me. Not alone for the view, which in itself was sufficient compensation for the climb, but there was also a sense of such complete aloneness--and I have that peculiarity. At times I want to be where no one can see me, or talk to me. I want to be utterly alone, without the possibility of interruption. Such a place I knew I had found on the peak of Bald Knob. When I reached the evergreens I realized that it must be almost twilight on the plateau. At least a cooling, grateful shade was there, and the philosophy of Spencer. A few moments later I crashed through the bush in the rear of the Lodge, came around and flung my cap boy-like on one of the benches alongside the door, then hurried toward the lone pine. When I had taken a half-dozen steps I looked up, and halted abruptly. Lessie was standing under the tree, holding "First Principles" open in her hands. CHAPTER TEN IN WHICH I SPEND A PLEASANT HOUR AND HEAR SOME NEWS She saw me the same instant, and her eyes brightened with what seemed to me pleasure, while slow waves of color came into her cheeks. She smiled, and stood motionless, waiting for me to approach. I lost no time in bidding her welcome. When I took her hand in greeting the contact was electrical--it may have been my imagination, I grant--but I'm sure I felt as if a charge of some kind had been projected into me. "Whut's this book?" she asked, closing the volume but still holding it with a clinging touch. It was to me as if she wanted to make it a part of her, her hands and fingers were so enveloping in their grasp. "That's heresy--rank heresy!" I laughed. "If Father John saw me reading that he would tell you to run from me as fast as you could." She glanced up with a most attractive blending of alarm and amusement on her face. "Then whut yo' read it fur?" she demanded. "It was written by one of the smartest men the world has ever known, and I want to find out what he thinks. We don't have to believe all we read, you know. We can read for various reasons." I saw she did not understand.