It was manifest enough why the men gathered about the girl. She delighted the senses. She improved the view. She was the view. Suavity of contour, proportion of feature, silkiness of texture, felicity of tint; every angle masked with a curve, every joint small and included, desirableness, cuddlesomeness, kissableness, warmth, and all the things that make up loveliness were Pamela’s. The contrast between herself and Pamela was so cruel that Deborah’s heart rebelled. She demanded of Heaven: "Why so much to her and none to me? My mother was as good as her mother, and better-looking in her day; and my father was a handsome man. Why was I made at all if not well made? Why allowed to live if not fit for life? My elder sister that died was more beautiful than Pamela, but she died. Why couldn’t I have died in her place, or taken the beauty she laid aside as I wore her cast-off clothes? Yet I live, and I shall never be married, shall never be a mother, shall never be of any use or any beauty. Why? Why?" Bitter, bitter were her thoughts as she sat with her plate in her lap. She hardly noticed when Josie took the plate away. She fell into an almost sleep of reverie and woke with a start to find that everybody else was crowding forward to hear Pamela sing. She was repeating "The Last Rose" by request. Mr. Maugans had said he would like another whack at that accompa’ment. Debby felt again that stab of Birdaline’s–"Poor Debby! She never was a rose." She could not bear to remain. She tiptoed from the dining-room, unnoticed, and went out at the side-door, drawing her shawl over her head. She must sneak home alone as usual. Thank Heaven, it was only a block and the streets were black. As she reached the front gate she met a man who had just come down from the porch. It was Meldrum. He peered at her in the dim light of the street-lamp and called out: "That you, Debby? Couldn’t you stand it any longer? Neither could I. That girl is a peach to look at, but she can’t sing for sour apples; and as for brains, she’s a nut, a pure pecan! I guess I’m too old or not old enough to be satisfied with staring at a pretty hide on a pretty frame. Which way you going? I’ll walk along with you if you don’t mind." If she didn’t mind! Would Lazarus object if Dives sat down on the floor beside him and brought along his trencher? Debby was so bewildered that the sidewalk reeled beneath her intoxicated feet. She stumbled till Meldrum took her hand and set it in the crook of his arm, and she trotted along as meek as Tobias with the angel. All, all too soon they reached her house. But he paused at the gate. She dared not invite him even to the porch. If her mother heard a man’s voice there she would probably open the window upstairs and shriek: "Murder! Thieves! Help!"