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 speak out loud for fear it will vanish. Were we vexed with that horrid old man and his beastly politics today, Ilse? Why, he doesn’t exist—not in world, anyway. I hear the Wind Woman running with soft, soft footsteps over the hill. I shall always think of the wind as a personality. She is a shrew when she blows from the north—a lonely seeker when she blows from the east—a laughing girl when she comes from the west—and tonight from the south a little grey fairy.”

“How do you think of such things?” asked Ilse.

This was a question which, for some mysterious reason, always annoyed Emily.

“I don’t think of them—they ,” she answered rather shortly.

Ilse resented the tone.

“For heaven’s sake, Emily, don’t be such a crank!” she exclaimed.

For a second the wonderful world in which Emily was at the moment living, trembled and wavered like a disturbed reflection in water. Then

“Don’t let’s quarrel ,” she implored. “One of us might push the other off the haystack.”

Ilse burst out laughing. Nobody can really laugh and keep angry. So their night under the stars was not spoiled by a fight. They talked for a while in whispers, of school girl secrets and dreams and fears. They even talked of getting married some time in the future. Of course they shouldn’t have, but they. Ilse, it appeared, was slightly pessimistic in regard to her matrimonial chances.

“The boys like me as a pal but I don’t believe any one will ever really fall in love with me.”

“Nonsense,” said Emily reassuringly. “Nine out of ten men will fall in love with you.”

“But it will be the tenth I’ll want,” persisted Ilse gloomily.

And then they talked of almost everything else in the world. Finally, they made a solemn compact that which-