riendly way at Janice as she started on. "Them
Hammett gals is reg'lar fuss-bugets," he observed. "But they're nice
folks. So you're Broxton Day's gal? I heard you'd arove. How do you
like Poketown?"

"I don't know it well enough to say yet, Mr. Moore," returned Janice,
bashfully, as she went down the hill.

There were no more houses, but great, sweeping-limbed willow trees
shaded the lower range of the hill. She came out, quite suddenly, upon
a little open lawn which edged the lake itself. Here an old dock stuck
its ugly length out into the water--a dock the timbers of which were
blackened as though by a fire, and the floor-boards of which had mostly
been removed. There was but a narrow path out to the end of the wharf.

Between the wharf and the opposite side of this little bay was a piece
of perfectly smooth water, the softly breathing wind did not ruffle the
bay at all. The long arm of the shore that was thrust out into the
lake was heavily wooded. Rows of dark, almost black, northern spruce
stood shouldering each other on that farther shore, making a perfect
wall of verdure. Their deep shadow was already beginning to creep
across the water toward the old wharf.

"What a quiet spot!" exclaimed Janice, aloud.

"'Iet spot!'" breathed the echo from the opposite shore.

"Why! it's an echo!" cried the startled Janice.

"'An echo!'" repeated the sprite, in instant imitation of her tone.

It was then that Janice saw the little girl upon the old wharf. At
first she seemed just a blotch of color upon the old burned timbers.
Then the startled visitor realized that the gaily-hued frock, and sash,
and bonnet, garbed a little girl of perhaps eight or nine years.

Janice could not see her face. When she rose up from where she had
been sitting and went along the shaking stringpiece of the dock, her
back was still toward the shore.

Yet her gait--the groping of one hand before her--all the uncertainty
and questioning of her attitude--shot the spectator through with alarm.
The child was blind! More than this, her unguided feet were leading
her directly to the abrupt end of the half ruined wharf!

CHAPTER VII

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO LOST THE ECHO

Shocked by the discovery of the child's misfortune, Janice scarcely
appreciated at first the peril that menaced the blind girl. It was a
mystery how her unguided feet had brought her so far along the
wharf-beam without catastrophe. But there--just ahead--wa