Clark Darrow—he would understand； or Joe Ewing； shecouldn’t be left here to wander forever—to be frozen， heart，body， and soul. This her—this Sally Carrol！ Why， she was ahappy thing. She was a happy little girl. She liked warmth andsummer and Dixie. These things were foreign—foreign.
“You’re not crying，” something said aloud. “You’ll nevercry any more. Your tears would just freeze； all tears freeze uphere！”
She sprawled full length on the ice.
“Oh， God！” she faltered.
A long single file of minutes went by， and with a greatweariness she felt her eyes dosing. Then some one seemed tosit down near her and take her face in warm， soft hands. Shelooked up gratefully.
“Why it’s Margery Lee，” she crooned softly to herself. “Iknew you’d come.” It really was Margery Lee， and she wasjust as Sally Carrol had known she would be， with a young，white brow， and wide welcoming eyes， and a hoop-skirt ofsome soft material that was quite comforting to rest on.
“Margery Lee.”
It was getting darker now and darker—all those tombstonesought to be repainted sure enough， only that would spoil ‘em，of course. Still， you ought to be able to see ‘em.
Then after a succession of moments that went fast and thenslow， but seemed to be ultimately resolving themselves into amultitude of blurred rays converging toward a pale-yellow sun，she heard a great cracking noise break her new-found stillness.
It was the sun， it was a light； a torch， and a torch beyondthat， and another one， and voices； a face took flesh below thetorch， heavy arms raised her and she felt something on hercheek—it felt wet. Some one had seized her and was rubbingher face with snow. How ridiculous—with snow！
“Sally Carrol！ Sally Carrol！”
It was Dangerous Dan McGrew； and two other faces shedidn’t know. “Child， child！ We’ve been looking for you twohours！ Harry’s half-crazy！”
Things came rushing back into place—the singing， thetorches， the great shout of the marching clubs. She squirmed inPatton’s arms and gave a long low cry.
“Oh， I want to get out of here！ I’m going back home. Takeme home”—her voice rose to a scream that sent a chill toHarry’s heart as he came racing down the next passage—“tomorrow！”
she cried with delirious， unstrained passion—“Tomorrow！
To-morrow！ To-morrow！”
VI
The wealth of golden sunlight poured a quite enervating yetoddly comforting heat over the house where day long it facedthe dusty stretch of road. Two birds were making a great todoin a cool spot found among the branches of a tree nextdoor， and down the street a colored woman was announcingherself melodiously as a purveyor of strawberries. It was Aprilafternoon.
Sally Carrol Happer， resting her chin on her arm， and herarm on an old window-seat， gazed sleepily down over thespangled dust whence the heat waves were rising for the firsttime this spring. She was watching a very ancient Ford turna perilous corner and rattle and groan to a jolting stop at theend of the walk. See made no sound and in a minute a stridentfamiliar whistle rent the air. Sally Carrol smiled and blinked.
“Good mawnin’.”
A head appeared tortuously from under the car-top below.
“Tain’t mawnin’， Sally Carrol.”
“Sure enough！” she said in affected surprise. “I guess maybenot.”
“What you doin’？”
“Eatin’ a green peach. ‘spect to die any minute.”
Clark twisted himself a last impossible notch to get a viewof her face.
“Water’s warm as a kettla steam， Sally Carol. Wanta goswimmin’？”
“Hate to move，” sighed Sally Carol lazily， “but I reckon so.”