er eleven. Nancy having been dismissed for the night,
she had no fear of being interrupted. She made her few preparations,
switched off the light, and sat down to wait until she could be sure
that all the servants were abed, and the streets deserted. She felt as
if she were a forlorn castaway upon a pinpoint of land, with
immeasurable dark depths upon either side.

The midnight express screeched and was gone. She switched on the light
for a last look about her pretty, pleasant room. There was a snapshot
of the Parish House people upon her mantel, and she nodded to it,
gravely, before she once more plunged the room into darkness.

Noiselessly she slipped downstairs and let herself out. The midnight
air was bitingly cold, but she did not feel it. With one handsatchel
holding all she thought she could honestly lay claim to, Mary Virginia
turned her back upon the home that had sheltered her all her life, but
that wouldn't be able to shelter its own people much longer, because
Inglesby was going to take it away from them. It made her wince to
think of him as master under that roof. The old house deserved a
happier fate.

At best the Parish House could be only a momentary stopping-place.
What lay beyond she didn't know. What her fate held further of evil
she couldn't guess. But at least, she thought, it would be in her own
hands. It wasn't. Unexpectedly and mercifully was it put into the
abler and stronger hands of the Butterfly Man.

Now, that night Flint had found himself unable to work. He was
unaccountably depressed. He couldn't read; even the Bible, opened at
his favorite John, hadn't any comfort for him. He shoved the book
aside, snatched hat and overcoat, and fled to his refuge the healing
out-of-doors.

He trudged the country roads for awhile, then turned toward town,
intending to pass by the Eustis house. It wasn't the first time he had
passed the Eustis house at night of late, and just to see it asleep in
the midst of its gardens steadied him and made him smile at the vague
fears he entertained.

He was almost up to the gate when a girl emerged from it, and he
stiffened in his tracks, for it was Mary Virginia. A second later, and
they stood face to face.

"Don't be alarmed, it is I, Flint," he said in his quiet voice. And
then he asked directly: "Why are you out alone at this hour? Where are
you going?"

"To--to the Parish House," she stammered. She was greatly startled by
his sudden appearance.

"Exa