"Too much of it's a dreadful barrier," she observed. "Grandmother Webster had too much when I first went to Vermont, but I found a little path that led around it after I'd searched a long time. I think part of the trouble with Carver is that he's just one of us out here. He isn't looked up to the way he is at home. Priscilla knew him last summer, you know, and she's told me about him. We were talking about it just last night, because we've noticed he's queer lately. Priscilla says he's always been looked up to by boys and girls of his age because his family's so old, and his father so wealthy, and his grandfather a colonel. In New England, you know, those things count, especially the family and the colonel. Then, besides, Carver's bright and fine-looking and an only son. Out here, you see, Don, we don't care so much about colonels and old families and money. They're all right, of course, if you have them, but you've an equal chance if you don't." "Maybe Carver's learning that we're right after all," said Donald thoughtfully. "Maybe he's seeing that ancestry won't make a man. It's hard to admit those things, I know that. I hated to admit that the Eastern fellows at school had better manners than we cow-punchers from this part of the country. But 'twas so all the same." Virginia allowed Pedro to nibble at the quaking-asps before she spoke. "He'll come out all right, Don," she said. "Don't let's worry! Sometimes I think he's like Captain Myles in the poem. Priscilla does, too. He gets angry all at once, and then hates himself for it. By and by he'll be all right again, and as nice as ever the Captain was at John Alden's wedding. Come on, let's round the hill! We're nearly at Mr. Livy's, and they'll think we're too exclusive for worlds!" The Emperor's flag was out--a diminutive and tattered Old Glory, whose shreds fluttered in the wind. It was tacked to a wooden box, which, mounted on a log at the entrance to a narrow, winding path, served as the Emperor's mail-box. The name A. C. Levinsky was painted upon the side facing the road. As they turned into the path, Priscilla halted Cyclone. There was a decided tinge of stubbornness in her voice as she spoke. "I'm not going another step," she announced, "until I know about this Emperor business. I'm not going to embarrass any poor old thing who may live in this wilderness by not knowing anything about him. Come, Donald! You've got to tell!"