he might come in any day, for it kept up her good cheer.

Having resolved to go she got up at once, closed the doors and windows,
put on her bonnet and went out down the street toward the old corduroy
road. It frightened her to think what might be at the end of her journey.
Possibly David himself, hurt or dying, and he had sent for her in this way
that she might break the news gently to his aunts. As she walked along she
conjured various forms of trouble that might have come to him. Now and
then she would try to take a cheerful view, saying to herself that David
might have needed more important papers, papers which he would not like
everyone to know about, and had sent by special messenger to her to get
them. Then her face would brighten and her step grow more brisk. But
always would come the dull thud of possibility of something more serious.
Her heart beat so fast sometimes that she was forced to lessen her speed
to get her breath, for though she was going through town, and must
necessarily walk somewhat soberly lest she call attention to herself, she
found that her nerves and imagination were fairly running ahead, and
waiting impatiently for her feet to catch up at every turning place.

At last she came to the corduroy road--a long stretch of winding way
overlaid with logs which made an unpleasant path. Most of the way was
swampy, and bordered in some places by thick, dark woods. Marcia sped on
from log to log, with a nervous feeling that she must step on each one or
her errand would not be successful. She was not afraid of the loneliness,
only of what might be coming at the end of her journey.

But suddenly, in the densest part of the wood, she became conscious of
footsteps echoing hers, and a chill laid hold upon her. She turned her
head and there, wildly gesticulating and running after her, was Miranda!

Annoyed, and impatient to be on her way, and wondering what to do with
Miranda, or what she could possibly want, Marcia stopped to wait for her.

"I thought--as you was goin' 'long my way"--puffed Miranda, "I'd jes' step
along beside you. You don't mind, do you?"

Marcia looked troubled. If she should say she did then Miranda would think
it queer and perhaps suspect something.

She tried to smile and ask how far Miranda was going.

"Oh, I'm goin' to hunt fer wild strawberries," said the girl nonchalantly
clattering a big tin pail.

"Isn't it early yet for strawberries?" questioned Marcia.

"Well, mebbe, a