She had cried out
impulsively to save Hale, but Dave would not understand. No, in
his eyes she had been false to family and friends--to the clan--
she had sided with "furriners." What would her father say? Perhaps
she'd better go home next day--perhaps for good--for there was a
deep unrest within her that she could not fathom, a premonition
that she was at the parting of the ways, a vague fear of the
shadows that hung about the strange new path on which her feet
were set. The old mill creaked in the moonlight below her.
Sometimes, when the wind blew up Lonesome Cove, she could hear
Uncle Billy's wheel creaking just that way. A sudden pang of
homesickness choked her, but she did not cry. Yes, she would go
home next day. She blew out the light and undressed in the dark as
she did at home and went to bed. And that night the little night-
gown lay apart from her in the drawer--unfolded and untouched.
XIV
But June did not go home. Hale anticipated that resolution of hers
and forestalled it by being on hand for breakfast and taking June
over to the porch of his little office. There he tried to explain
to her that they were trying to build a town and must have law and
order; that they must have no personal feeling for or against
anybody and must treat everybody exactly alike--no other course
was fair--and though June could not quite understand, she trusted
him and she said she would keep on at school until her father came
for her.
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