1/23 CHAPTER XIV. It would seem that all the inmates of the homestead were sleeping; but there was one already awake and moving furtively about. It was Netta, not usually such an early riser. The curtains of her trim little bed and window were drawn aside to admit all the light that a September twilight could cast upon the chamber in which she had slept since her childhood. A lovely bunch of monthly roses and some leaves of dark green ivy alone looked in upon her in the uncertain gloaming, as if imaging her present and future. |