e place where there's light all the time."

"_All_ the time?" repeated Gwendolyn, surprised.

"It's where light grows."

"_Grows?_"

"Well, it's where _candle_-light grows."

"Candle-light!" she cried. "You mean--! Oh, it's where my fath-er
comes!"

"Sometimes."

"Will he be there now?"

"Only the Bird can tell us that."

Then she understood Jane's last gasping admonition--"Get you-know-what
out of the way! A certain person mustn't talk to it! If she does she'll
find--"

It was the Doctor's hand that steadied her as she hurried forward in the
darkness. It was a big hand, and she was able to grasp only two fingers
of it. But that clinging hold made her feel that their friendship was
established. She was not at all surprised at her complete change of
attitude toward him. It seemed to her now as if he and she had always
been on good terms.

The others were near. She could hear the _tinkle-tankle_ of the Piper's
pipes, the scuff of Puffy's paws, the labored breathing of the little
old gentleman as he trudged, the heavy tramp, tramp of the Policeman.
She made her bare feet travel as fast as she could, and kept her look
steadily ahead on the dim stars.

And saw, moving from one to another of them, in quick darts--now up,
now down--a small Something. She did not instantly guess what it
was--flitting across that half-darkened sky. Until she heard the wild
beating of tiny pinions!

"Why, it's a bird!" she exclaimed.

"A bird?" repeated the Policeman, all eagerness.

"Must be _the_ Bird!" declared the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, triumphantly.

It was. Even in the poor light her eager eyes made out the bumps on that
small feathered head. And saw that on the down-drooping tail, nicely
balanced, and gleaming whitely, was a lump.

Remembering what she had heard about that bit of salt, she ran forward.
At her approach, his wings half-lifted. And as she reached out to him,
pointing a small finger, he sprang sidewise, alighting upon it.

"Oh, I'm glad you've come!" he panted.

He was no larger than a canary; and seemed to be brown--a sparrow-brown.
Prejudiced against him she had been. He had tattled about her--_worse_,
about her father. Yet seeing him now, so tiny and ruffled and
frightened, she liked him.

She brought him to a level with her eyes. "What's the matter?" she asked
soothingly.

"I'm afraid." He thrust out his head, pointing. "_Look_."

She looked. Ahead the tops of the grass blades were swaying this