“But you don’t see the point, Wesley.  She would have grown into a fine woman with us; but as we would have raised her, would her heart ever have known the world as it does now?  Where’s the anguish, Wesley, that child can’t comprehend?  Seeing what she’s seen of her mother hasn’t hardened her.  She can understand any mother’s sorrow.  Living life from the rough side has only broadened her.  Where’s the girl or boy burning with shame, or struggling to find a way, that will cross Elnora’s path and not get a lift from her?  She’s had the knocks, but there’ll never be any of the thing you call ‘false pride’ in her.  I guess we better keep out.  Maybe Kate Comstock knows what she’s doing.  Sure as you live, Elnora has grown bigger on knocks than she would on love.”

“I don’t s’pose there ever was a very fine point to anything but I missed it,” said Wesley, “because I am blunt, rough, and have no book learning to speak of.  Since you put it into words I see what you mean, but it’s dinged hard on Elnora, just the same.  And I don’t keep out.  I keep watching closer than ever.  I got my slap in the face, but if I don’t miss my guess, Kate Comstock learned her lesson, same as I did.  She learned that I was in earnest, that I would haul her to court if she didn’t loosen up a bit, and she’ll loosen.  You see if she doesn’t.  It may come hard, and the hinges creak, but she’ll fix Elnora decent after this, if Elnora doesn’t prove that she can fix herself.  As for me, I found out that what I was doing was as much for myself as for Elnora.  I wanted her to take those things from us, and love us for giving them.  It didn’t work, and but for you, I’d messed the whole thing and stuck like a pig in crossing a bridge.  But you helped me out; Elnora’s got the clothes, and by morning, maybe I won’t grudge Kate the only laugh she’s had in sixteen years.  You been showing me the way quite a spell now, ain’t you, Maggie?”

In her attic Elnora lighted two candles, set them on her little table, stacked the books, and put away the precious clothes.  How lovingly she hung the hat and umbrella, folded the raincoat, and spread the new dress over a chair.  She fingered the ribbons, and tried to smooth the creases from them.  She put away the hose neatly folded, touched the handkerchiefs, and tried the belt.  Then she slipped into her white nightdress, shook down her hair that it might become thoroughly dry, set a chair before the table, and reverently opened one of the books.  A stiff draught swept the attic, for it stretched the length of the cabin, and had a window in each end.  Elnora arose and going to the east window closed it.  She stood for a minute looking at the stars, the sky, and the dark outline of the straggling trees of the rapidly dismantling Limberlost.  In the region of her case a tiny point of light flashed and disappeared.  Elnora straightened and wondered.  Was it wise to leave her precious money there?  The light flashed once more, wavered a few seconds, and died out.  The girl waited.  She did not see it again, so she turned to her books.