use their new-found freedom wisely. Ever since that day Richard had improved every opportunity to talk with the girl, and encouraged her to tell him of herself. IV But it was not the militant Olga who walked beside him in the twilight of this July afternoon. Their steps had taken them to the edge of the lake which to Norcrossians is the most beautiful sheet of water in the world. With certain allowances made for local pride, it is still fair to say that East Lake owes no apology to any similar spot, for the pines and the hemlocks and the cedars group themselves in picturesque beauty around its banks, while, beyond, the heavier growth of timberland rises gently to the Blue Hills. The sun was just disappearing behind the trees as the two seated themselves on a rough wooden bench built upon a slight eminence above the water. "You haven't told me yet why you waited for me, Olga," Richard reminded her. The girl started from her reverie. "It is so wonderful!" she answered irrelevantly, giving herself up without restraint to the sensuous joy of the beauty of her surroundings. . . "But I will tell you, for you are in haste to go home and be rid of little Olga." "No, no," Richard humored her; smiling at this new mood which he had never seen. "I am in no hurry. This is all very beautiful as you say, and you fit into the picture perfectly. . . You are a beautiful child, Olga, even if your temper is so violent." "I am not a child, and my temper is for those I hate,” she declared . . . "I will tell you why I waited. It is about the men at the factory. They are planning something, I do not know yet what. They are not sure about you. Are you James Norton's son or are you one of us? I told Tony I would find out, for no one else dared ask you." "It ought not to take so much courage to ask me, little Olga," Richard answered soberly, unconsciously giving her the epithet she herself had used; "but it will take far more to answer it. The men must know that I am not in sympathy with many of the present methods at the factory. I want them to realize that I am doing and shall do all I can to correct some of the injustices I have seen since I came home from France. To that extent I am one of them. But if they are planning violence I am against them, . . not only because I am James Norton's son, but also because I am an employee of the Company and I am loyal. If the men will trust me I can help them. You may tell them that. If they don't trust me, tell them I will keep away from their meetings, for I am no spy." "I trust you," Olga announced simply. "You are the son of a rich man, Mr. Richard Norton, but at heart you are one of us, and I know it." "There should be no contradiction in that, for the rich man needs the help of the workman just as the workman needs the money of the rich man. Those of us who went to the war, Olga, learned many lessons which we must impart to those who didn't have the same chance to learn them." The girl looked up at him admiringly. "The men will trust you," she assured him confidently. "You fought for us just as you fought for the rich people. If the country which was once my country had not been a traitor you would not have had to fight so hard. I would kill myself from shame if I were still a Russian and not an American." "You are an American, sure enough, Olga," Richard acknowledged; "no one could doubt that . . . Now shall I take you back to the town? It is getting dark.” "You need take me nowhere, Mr. Richard Norton, unless you want to. Olga can take care of herself . . . But do you not like me a little bit?” "Of course I like you. Who could help it?" They were standing now. As she spoke Olga drew nearer to him, playing with the buttons on his coat. Suddenly she raised her head and smiled roguishly as her eyes, shining like twin stars, met his in the dusk. She felt his instinctive movement toward her and then the reaction of his enforced restraint. "You may if you wish, Mr. Richard Norton," she whispered; "but I am glad you waited, for Olga's lips are not freely given." "No, no," he exclaimed quickly; "it would not be fair." "To the lady in Mr. Stewart's garden?" she asked daringly, pouting her pique. "Was it her fairness to you that made you knock the heads off all the poor daisies? If she is fair why does she not marry you?" Her words irritated Richard. "She is not sure yet that she loves me," he ... admitted, and then was more annoyed that he had been surprised into this acknowledgment. "Not sure! Then it is 'no.' There is never doubt in a woman's heart. She loves or she does not love. She does not know why, she does not care why, but she knows that it is or it is not." "I was not thinking of her, little Olga; it would not be fair to you to kiss you, even though you make it mighty hard to resist." "Not fair to me! Since when have you had to think of that? I have told you that Olga can take care of herself. You think I love you because I offer my lips? You flatter yourself, Mr. Richard Norton. Do you know what a kiss means to me? It is wine sipped by two friends from the same glass; not vodka, for that is sluggish, but sparkling wine which sets the blood on fire and makes me live for that happy moment in another world, . . in my friend's world. But if I loved you,.. ha! You would know it! There would be no doubt as with the lady in Mr. Stewart's garden. I have never yet loved a man, Mr. Richard Norton, but can you not be little Olga's friend?" Richard turned his hand until her fingers were in his grasp. Instinctively he drew her toward him, and she held her face close to his in tantalizing proximity. "I have warned you, little Olga," he exclaimed; "but I am human!" "Because we both are human, and because we are friends, why should we not sip the wine together?" He felt her body yield as he crushed the slight form in his arms, and Olga gave a little sigh of happiness |