“What is melodrama?” Nella-Rose never let a new word or suggestion escape her.  She was as keen as she was dramatic and mischievous.

“It would be hard to make you understand—­but see here”—­Truedale drew the gunny sack to him—­“I bet you’re hungry!” He deliberately put Brace from his thoughts.

“I reckon I am.”  The lovely eyes were fixed upon the hand that was bringing forth the choicest morsels of the food prepared early that morning.  As he laid the little feast before her, Truedale acknowledged that, in a vague way, he had been saving the morsels for Nella-Rose even while he had fed, earlier, upon coarser fare.

“I don’t know about giving you a chicken wing!” he said playfully.  “You look as if you were about to fly away as it is—­but unfortunately I’ve eaten both legs!”

“Oh! please”—­Nella-Rose reached across the narrow space separating them, she was pleading prettily—­“I just naturally admire wings!”

“I bet you do!  Well, eat plenty of bread with them.  And see here, Nella-Rose, while you are eating I’m going to read a story to you.  It is the sort of thing that we call melodrama.”

“Oh!” This through the dainty nibbling of the coveted wing.  “I’m right fond of stories.”

“Keep quiet now!” commanded Truedale and he began the spirited tale of love and high adventure that, like the tidbits, he knew he had brought for Nella-Rose!

The warm autumn sun fell upon them for a full hour, then it shifted and the chill of the approaching evening warned the reader of the flight of time.  He stopped suddenly to find that his companion had long since forgotten her hunger and food.  Across the debris she bent, absorbed and tense.  Her hands were clasped close—­cold, little hands they were—­and her big eyes were strained and wonder-filled.

“Is that—­all?” she asked, hoarsely.

“Why, no, child, there’s more.”

“Go on!”

“It’s too late!  We must get back.”

“I—­I must know the rest!  Why, don’t you see, you know how it turns out; I don’t!”

“Shall I tell you?”

“No, no.  I want it here with the warm sun and the pines and your—­yourself making it real.”

“I do not understand, Nella-Rose!” But as he spoke Truedale began to understand and it gave him an uneasy moment.  He knew what he ought to do, but knew that he was not going to do it!  “We’ll have to come again and hear the rest,” was what he said.

“Yes?  Why”—­and here the shadowy eyes took on the woman-look, the look that warned and lured the man near her—­“I did not know it ever came like that—­really.”

“What, Nella-Rose?”

“Why—­love.  They-all knew it—­and took it.  It was just like it was something all by itself.  That’s not the sort us-all have.  Does it only come that—­er—­way in mel—­melerdrammer?”