resently out of the tall grass of the lower meadow the head and
shoulders of Jean Garland appeared. He could see her wading breast-deep
along the rag-weed and the meadow-sweet. The faint wind-furrow which
preceded her showed where Whitefoot, still invisible, guided the girl to
the exact clump of undergrowth where Patsy and Stair were waiting.

After a little they could see, emerging likewise, the cocked ears, the
shaggy head and eager brown eyes of Whitefoot as he turned at every
other yard to make sure that Jean was following, and appreciating all
his cleverness. At the edge of the clump of dull green alders he drew
back to let her pass, as much as to say, "There now--you can do the
rest--go on and see for yourself if I have not guided you aright."

Jean came upon her brother first. He was still leaning with one hand on
his gun and the opposite elbow crooked about the hole of a tree.

"All right up there?" he demanded in a low tone, indicating the farm
with a jerk of his head.

Jean nodded without speaking. She was sure it was not merely to ask this
that he had sent Whitefoot to bring her to him.

"No insolence?"

"No," said Jean, "they are all as little troublesome as they can help.
There is some general or great person over at the Abbey Burn House--"

"A Royal Prince," said Stair bitterly, "go on, Jean. I think it is about
him that Patsy wishes to speak to you! Keep Whitefoot by you, and if you
want me he will know where to find me."

Jean disappeared, and in another moment had found her friend. In the
snuggest nook of the shelter afforded by the alder undergrowth the two
sat down.

Then Patsy revealed to Jean her invincible fear and dislike of the royal
visitor whom she had seen at her uncle's. She had seen something glitter
for a moment in his eyes which had frightened her, and though she had
played her part out to the end, she had fled the moment after to consult
with Jean, a wise maid for her years and the only soul in the world
fully in Patsy's confidence.

"Uncle Julian cannot help me this time," she said, "he is the man's
friend. He would believe no ill of him. And, indeed, I have nothing
really to put before him. Men want evidence, not impressions. If I were
to say to my Uncle Julian that I was afraid of the man's eyes, he would
only call me a little fool and tell me to look the other way!"

Patsy found Jean exceedingly comforting. Jean understood without having
to have things explained, without a