-I know--I think I shall stay. I don't think I can go,
Mr. Rollo; and as for the butternuts,' she added, recovering
her spirits the moment the decision was made, 'any one who
likes to sleep on them may! I shall play mouse among the meal
bags.'

'Then I will do what I can to get you out of your difficulties
to-morrow. I hope the play will not include sleeplessness,
which is my idea of a mouse.'

He offered his hand, clasped hers, lifted his hat, and was
gone.

CHAPTER IX.

CATS.

With the departure of the more stirring member of the company,
Miss Wych had subsided; and in that state could feel that she
was tired. She sat in the doorway of the mill. It was after
sundown; still, bright, sweet, and fair, as after sundown in
June can be. The sky all aglow still with cooler lights; in
the depth of the hollow the morsel of a lake had a dark
shining of its own, like a black diamond, or a green jasper,
with the light off. Mrs. Saddler was gone up the hill with
Phoebe, to get her share of hospitality. Mr. Falkirk had
supped on the remains of the strawberries and milk, and would
have nothing more. Guardian and ward were alone. The stillness
of Summer air floated down from the tree-tops, and did not
stir the lake.

'Wych, how do you like seeking your fortune? I am curious to
be informed?'

'Thank you, sir. The finding to-day has gone so far beyond my
expectations, that I am willing to rest the pursuit till to-
morrow.'

'Fortune and you clasp hands rather roughly at first setting
out! But what do you think of the train she has brought with
her in these seven days?'

'What train, sir?'

'I asked you what you thought of it. Answer straight like a
good child.'

'It's a wonderful train, if it has made a good child of me,'
she answered, with a half laugh. 'Do you mean of people, or
events, sir?'

'The events are left behind, child; the people follow.'

'Will they?' said Wych Hazel. 'Dr. Maryland and all? Mr.
Kingsland might stay behind. Nobody will ever want him.'

'All the rest have your good leave!' said Mr. Falkirk, with an
expression--Wych could not tell what sort of an expression, it
was so complicated. 'Do you think it is an easy office I have
to fill?' he went on.

'Maybe not, sir. I thought you seemed very ready to give it
up. I have felt like stray baggage to-day.'

'How do you suppose I am to guard you from so many enemies?'

'Ready to send me round the country, with the first knight-
errant t