From the Hand of Dolorita
like a native's protest against the thought. Miss Herrick laughed at the interruption.
"That's right," she said. "We won't borrow trouble."
She cast a last glance at the lowly home in its opulent setting of autumn foliage, and at the hills beyond. Somewhere below she heard the gurgle of a mountain brook, hurrying toward the river. There was a keen exhilaration in the morning air. Her horse felt it as she did, and neighed impatiently to be off. She settled herself more firmly in the saddle, chirruped to him cheerily, and with a spring they started on their long journey back to the haunts of men.
One of the boys in "The Searchlight" office came to her three weeks later, his round eyes rounder than ever with the novelty of his message.
"A big young fellow wants to see you, Miss Herrick," he said. "He ain't got no card, but he says you know him. He says his name's Willis and that he comes from the Virginia mountains."
Miss Herrick looked up from her work with a sigh. This was "coming out in th'
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