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"Well, I'm goin' to do it." Anson sat up in bed and peered onto the floor. "Hey? Oh, all right, all right. Stanhope's a fine youngster, but poor, poor." A whip-poor-will lilted its low call from a hazel copse and Billy answered it. A feeling that he wanted to visit his wild things in the upland shanty and explain to them his seeming neglect of them during his time of stress took possession of him. So, although he knew supper would be ready and waiting at home, he branched off where the path forked and hurried forward toward the oak ridge. "You—" she commenced, her voice tense with passion, "you—" she checked herself. Unconsciously one of the groping hands had come in contact with the soft leather cover of a book which lay on the table..