to
the cabin at once to investigate. She had a horror of tramps. But the
boys begged her to wait until daylight for Jonesy's sake.

"The man will beat him if he finds out that Jonesy warned us," pleaded
Keith. He was so earnest that the tears stood in his big, trustful eyes.

"This is spoiling the party, mother," whispered Miss Allison, "and
dinner is waiting. I'll be responsible for any harm that may be done if
you will let the boys have their way this once."

There seemed no other way to settle it just then, so Bruin was allowed
to go back to his rug in the blue room, and the door was
securely locked.

Keith took Lloyd down to dinner, and his grandmother heard him
apologising all the way down for having frightened her. The little Queen
of Hearts listened smilingly, but her colour did not come back all
evening, until after the archery contest. It was when Malcolm came up
with the prize he had won, a tiny silver arrow, and pinned it in the
knot of red ribbon on her shoulder.

"Will you keep it to remember me by?" he asked, bashfully.

"Of co'se!" she answered, with a smile that showed all her roguish
dimples. "I'll keep it fo'evah and evah to remembah how neah I came to
bein' eaten up by yo' bea'h."

[Illustration: "'WILL YOU KEEP IT TO REMEMBER ME BY?'"]

"It seems too bad for such a beautiful party to come to an end," Sally
Fairfax said when the last merry game was played, the last story
told, and it was time to go home. "But there's one comfort," she added,
gathering all her gay valentines together, "there needn't be any end to
the remembering of it. I've had _such_ a good time, Mrs. MacIntyre."

It was so late when the last carriage rolled down the avenue, bearing
away the last smiling little guest, that the children were almost too
sleepy to undress. It was not long until the last light was put out in
every room, and a deep stillness settled over the entire house. One by
one the lights went out in every home in the valley, and only the stars
were left shining, in the cold wintry sky. No, there was one lamp that
still burned. It was in the little cottage where old Professor Heinrich
sat bowed over his books.

CHAPTER IV.

A FIRE AND A PLAN.

Some people said that old Johann Heinrich never slept, for no matter
what hour of the night one passed his lonely little house, a lamp was
always burning. He was a queer old German naturalist, living by himself
in a cottage adjoining the MacIntyre place. He h