"To A.C.W., in memory of a certain day in the woods.
From one who rejoices in a brave and noble deed.
Sincerely, Edwin Langham."
On the opposite page was written a quotation which Agony had been familiar with ever since she had become a Winnebago:
"Love is the joy of service so deep that self is
forgotten."
She put the book away where she could not see it, but the words had burned themselves into her brain.
"To A.C.W. From one who rejoices in a brave and noble
deed."
They mocked her in the dead of night, they taunted her in the light of day. But, like the boy with the fox gnawing at his vitals, Agony continued to smile and make herself agreeable, and no one ever suspected that her gayety was not genuine.
CHAPTER XII
THE STUNT'S THE THING
"Where would a shipwreck look best, right by the dock, or farther up the shore?" Sahwah's forehead puckered up with the force of her reflection.
"Oh, not right by the dock," said Jo Severance decidely. "That would be too modern and—commonplace. It's lots more epic to be dashed against a rocky cliff. All the shipwrecks in the books happen on stern and rockbound coasts and things like that."