"It is very interesting," he mused, and he unfolded the tale of this plant. How exacting it was, how its seed germinated in only a certain soil, how it bloomed in only certain seasons under special weather conditions. Isabelle's quick imagination kindled at the tale. It was hard to hate this man, whom she had visualized as her jailer. "Why do you say 'thee' instead of 'you'?" she asked as her first remark. "Because I am a Quaker, and we use the Friends' speech." "What are Quakers?" He smiled, and explained to her, and as he talked they swung between gates into a long tree-bordered drive that climbed and climbed until it reached a hill top; and here a low, rambling, many-roomed house spread itself pleasantly upon the earth. Some girls were raking leaves and waved to them as they passed. The fat horses stopped at the house. Mr. Benjamin got out and lifted out the trunk and bag. Just then the door opened and Mrs. Benjamin appeared. "Phoebe, my dear, this is our new child, Isabelle Bryce," he said. Mrs. Benjamin bent and kissed her. "Thee is very welcome, Isabelle," she said, taking her hand and leading her indoors. A great, broad hall bisected the house. In the living room, to the right, a fire sparkled and crackled. The room gave out a feeling of friendliness. There were big chairs, student lamps, pleasant colours and shadows. "I hope thee did not get chilled coming up the hill. There is a nip in the air these fall nights," Mrs. Benjamin remarked. "No, I wasn't cold, thank you," Isabelle replied. The last two words dragged themselves out in spite of her. It was as difficult to hate Mrs. Benjamin as it was to hate Mr. Benjamin. And the warm big room was nice. But no--she wasn't going to give in. She was a rebel and they should find her such! Just then a girl came into the room. She was younger than Isabelle--ten years old, perhaps. She was fair and frail with a discontented little face. "Peggy, this is Isabelle Bryce. This is Peggy Starr, Isabelle. I thought thee might show Isabelle her room, Peggy." The two girls looked at each other. "All right; come on," said the younger girl, ungraciously. They mounted the wide stairs to the corridor above, with bedrooms opening off on each side. Peggy led the way into a huge room, with many windows. It had two beds, two bureaus, two closets. "I s'pose you're my room mate," Peggy remarked, staring at her. "Do you sleep here?" "I slept in another girl's room last night, but I belong here." "When did you come?" "Yesterday." "Like it?" "No, hate it!" "So do I," said Isabelle, firmly. "I cried all night," boasted Peggy. "I never cry," said Isabelle. The other girl stared. "Are there many girls here?" "You make ten. The rest are raking for a bonfire. Sillies!" "Didn't they invite you?" "I can't do rough things like that. I'm delicate."