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back to a machine…shop or some sort； I suppose he meant when the poor thing
gets better。 I glanced at him just then； when Mr。 Sheridan mentioned him； and
he happened to be looking straight at me； and he was pathetic…looking enough
before that； but the most tragic change came over him。 He seemed just to die；
right there at the table！〃
〃You mean when his father spoke of sending him to the shop place？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Mr。 Sheridan must be very unfeeling。〃
〃No；〃 said Mary； thoughtfully； 〃I don't think he is； but he might be
uncomprehending； and certainly he's the kind of man to do anything he once
sets out to do。 But I wish I hadn't been looking at that poor boy just then！
I'm afraid I'll keep remembering〃
〃I wouldn't。〃 Mrs。 Vertrees smiled faintly； and in her smile there was the
remotest ghost of a genteel roguishness。 〃I'd keep my mind on pleasanter
things； Mary。〃
Mary laughed and nodded。 〃Yes； indeed！ Plenty pleasant enough； and probably；
if all were known； too goodeven for me！〃
And when she had gone Mrs。 Vertrees drew a long breath； as if a burden were
off her mind； and； smiling； began to undress in a gentle reverie。
Edith； glancing casually into the 〃ready…made〃 library； stopped abruptly；
seeing Bibbs there alone。 He was standing before the pearl…framed and golden…
lettered poem； musingly inspecting it。 He read it：
Fugitive
I will forget the things that sting：
The lashing look； the barbed word。
I know the very hands that fling
The stones at me had never stirred
To anger but for their own scars。
They've suffered so； that's why they strike。
I'll keep my heart among the stars
Where none shall hunt it out。 Oh； like
These wounded ones I must not be；
For； wounded； I might strike in turn！
So； none shall hurt me。 Far and free
Where my heart flies no one shall learn。
〃Bibbs！〃 Edith's voice was angry； and her color deepened suddenly as she came
into the room； preceded by a scent of violets much more powerful than that
warranted by the actual bunch of them upon the lapel of her coat。
Bibbs did not turn his head； but wagged it solemnly； seeming depressed by the
poem。 〃Pretty young； isn't it？〃 he said。 〃There must have been something
about your looks that got the prize； Edith； I can't believe the poem did it。〃
She glanced hurriedly over her shoulder and spoke sharply； but in a low voice：
〃I don't think it's very nice of you to bring it up at all； Bibbs。 I'd like a
chance to forget the whole silly business。 I didn't want them to frame it；
and I wish to goodness papa'd quit talking about it； but here； that night；
after the dinner； didn't he go and read it aloud to the whole crowd of 'em！
And then they all wanted to know what other poems I'd written and why I didn't
keep it up and write some more； and if I didn't； why didn't I； and why this
and why that； till I thought I'd die of shame！〃
〃You could tell 'em you had writer's cramp；〃 Bibbs suggested。
〃I couldn't tell 'em anything！ I just choke with mortification every time
anybody speaks of the thing。〃
Bibbs looked grieved。 〃The poem isn't THAT bad； Edith。 You see； you were
only seventeen when you wrote it。〃
〃Oh； hush up！〃 she snapped。 〃I wish it had burnt my fingers the first time I
touched it。 Then I might have had sense enough to leave it where it was。 I
had no business to take it； and I've been ashamed〃
〃No； no；〃 he said； comfortingly。 〃It was the very most flattering thing ever
happen to me。 It was almost my last flight before I went to the machine…shop；
and it's pleasant to think somebody liked it enough to〃
〃But I DON'T like it！〃 she exclaimed。 〃I don't even understand itand papa
made so much fuss over its getting the prize； I just hate it！ The truth is I
never dreamed it 'd get the prize。〃
〃Maybe they expected father to endow the school；〃 Bibbs murmered。
〃Well； I had to have something to turn in； and I couldn't write a LINE！ I
hate poetry； anyhow； and Bobby Lamhorn's always teasing me about how I 'keep
my heart among the stars。' He makes it seem such a mushy kind of thing； the
way he says it。 I hate it！〃
〃You'll have to live it down； Edith。 Perhaps abroad and under another name
you might find〃
〃Oh； hush up！ I'll hire some one to steal it and burn it the first chance I
get。〃 She turned away petulantly； moving to the door。 〃I'd like to think I
could hope to hear the last of it before I die！〃
〃Edith！〃 he called； as she went into the hall。
〃What's the matter？〃
〃I want to ask you： Do I really look better； or have you just got used to me？〃
〃What on earth do you mean？〃 she said； coming back as far as the threshold。
〃When I first came you couldn't look at me；〃 Bibbs explained； in his
impersonal way。 〃But I've noticed you look at me lately。 I wondered if
I'd〃
〃It's because you look so much better；〃 she told him； cheerfully。 〃This month
you've been here's done you no end of good。 It's the change。〃
〃Yes； that's what they said at the sanitariumthe change。〃
〃You look worse than 'most anybody I ever saw；〃 said Edith； with supreme
candor。 〃But I don't know much about it。 I've never seen a corpse in my
life； and I've never even seen anybody that was terribly sick； so you mustn't
judge by me。 I only know you do look better； I'm glad to say。 But you're
right about my not being able to look at you at first。 You had a kind of
whiteness thatWell； you're almost as thin； I suppose； but you've got more
just ordinarily pale； not that ghastly look。 Anybody could look at you now；
Bibbs； and nonot get〃
〃Sick？〃
〃Wellalmost that！〃 she laughed。 〃And you're getting a better color every
day； Bibbs； you really are。 You're getting along splendidly。〃
〃II'm afraid so；〃 he said； ruefully。
〃'Afraid so'！ Well； if you aren't the queerest！ I suppose you mean father
might send you back to the machine…shop if you get well enough。 I heard him
say something about it the night of the〃 The jingle of a distant bell
interrupted her； and she glanced at her watch。 〃Bobby Lamhorn！ I'm going to
motor him out to look at a place in the country。 Afternoon； Bibbs！〃
When she had gone； Bibbs mooned pessimistically from shelf to shelf； his eye
wandering among the titles of the books。 The library consisted almost
entirely of handsome 〃uniform editions〃： Irving； Poe； Cooper； Goldsmith；
Scott； Byron； Burns； Longfellow； Tennyson； Hume； Gibbon； Prescott； Thackeray；
Dickens； De Musset； Balzac； Gautier； Flaubert； Goethe； Schiller； Dante； and
Tasso。 There were shelves and shelves of encyclopedias； of anthologies； of
〃famous classics；〃 of 〃Oriental masterpieces；〃 of 〃masterpieces of oratory；〃
and more shelves of 〃selected libraries〃 of 〃literature；〃 of 〃the drama；〃 and
of 〃modern science。〃 They made an effective decoration for the ro