s a pretty little thing, very young, and dressed in a
white motor coat with white shoes and hat.

"And--and berries?"

"There aren't many berries," I admitted. "The birds eat 'em. We get the
ones they don't fancy."

Now I didn't think for a moment that she was worried about my diet, but
she was worried about the food supply in the woods, that was sure. So I
sat down on a stump and told her about puffballs, and what Tish had read
about ants being edible but acid, and that wood mice, roasted and not
cooked too dry, were good food, but that Aggie had made us liberate the
only ones we had caught, because a man she was once engaged to used to
carry a pet mouse in his pocket.

Nothing had really appealed to her until I mentioned Mr. Wiggins. Then
unexpectedly she began to cry again. And after that I got the whole
story.

It seems she was in love with a young man who was everything a young man
ought to be and had money as well. But the money was the barrier really,
for the girl's father wouldn't believe that a youth who played polo, and
did not have to work for a living, and led cotillons, and paid calls in
the afternoon could have really good red blood in him. He had a man in
view for her, she said, one who had made his money himself, and had to
have his valet lay out his clothes for fear he'd make a mistake. Once
the valet had to go to have a tooth pulled and the man had to decline
a dinner.

"Father said," finished the little girl tearfully, "that if
Percy--that's his name, and it counted against him too--that if Percy
was a real man he'd do something. And then he hap-happened on a book of
my small brother's, telling how people used to live in the woods, and
kill their own food and make their own fire--"

"The 'Young Woodsman,' of course," I put in.

"And how the strong survived, but the weak succumbed, and he said if
Percy was a man, and not a t-tailor's dummy, he'd go out in the woods,
j-just primitive man, without anything but a pair of bathing trunks,
and keep himself alive for a month. If he s-stood the test father was
willing to forget the 'Percy.' He said that he knew Mr. Willoughby could
do it--that's the other man--and that he'd come in at the end of the
time with a deed for the forest and mortgages on all the surrounding
camps."

"And Percy agreed?"

"He didn't want to. He said it took mentality and physical endurance as
well as some courage to play polo. Father said it did--on the part of
the pony.