CHAPTER XXII.
THE HOME IN THE SOUTH.
They had gone to the country—to Kentucky.
The wind seemed to blow out of all the heavens
across the greening world. With what light touch
it lifted the hazel, bent to earth at morning. How
gentle to the wind-flower—its own spoiled child.
Quiet brooded over the wide, gray farm-house. All the doors stood open to the soft air, and Cherokee had gone into the garden, where the common-*place flowers were in disarray. Her straying foot crushed memoried fragrance from borders all over-*grown; wild thyme ran vagrantly in happy tangle everywhere. She did not like to see such riotous growth where once had been borders, clean and kept.
The breeze came to her like the soothing touch of a friendly hand; the tall elms, nodding, seemed to outstretch their arms in blessings on her head, murmuring, in leaf music, "Be kind to her." The effect was subtle as the viewless winds that in their
