for a walk."

"You're not going to walk in the dark, Miss Bawn?" she said, and stood
staring after me over the banisters when I answered her that the sun
would soon be up.

I liked the frosty keenness of the air, and this morning my heart was
very light. Although it had rained so heavily in the night the frost had
turned everything hard and stiff; but as I ran on my way down the long
avenue, and heard the sleepy twittering of the birds, I could have sung
for the new, healthy life that was in my veins. I had not gone far
before the sun sent his golden rays above the horizon, and the blue came
out in the sky overhead and it was day, and all at once the robins began
to sing.

The early walk gave me a pleasant sense of adventure. I was on my way to
Castle Clody, and was wondering if I should find my godmother up and how
I would tell her the good news.

By the time I arrived there the whole lawn and the hedges were shining
with the diamonds of the frost in the good golden light, and glancing up
at my godmother's window I saw that her blind was up, and said to myself
that she must be awake and about. Of course she was always an early
riser, though she would have me lie late a-bed when I stayed with her,
saying it was good for young people to sleep.

The doors and windows of Castle Clody were always open to the fresh air;
and as I went in by the open hall door I saw my godmother coming down
the stairs.

"Why, bless me, it is Bawn!" she said. "What brings you so early, child?
There is no bad news, I trust. Your grandmother?"

"Was never better in her life. Godmother dear, so many things have
happened that I do not know where to begin."

"Begin somewhere," she said, after one quick look at me, and led the way
into the little room where we usually had our meals together. The fire
was lit and the table set for breakfast, and the room looked very
pleasant. "Dido is not with you," she said, closing the door behind us.

"No," I returned.

"And how is that, Bawn? How did she let you come alone?"

"As I came down the stairs in the dusk of the morning she lay on the mat
outside Uncle Luke's door, and when I called to her to come she wagged
her old tail and would not come. For the first time she would not follow
me. Godmother dear, isn't it a strange thing that Maureen should have
prepared his room yesterday, saying that he would be with us before
night?"

"Bawn, Bawn," cried my godmother, very pale, "if you do not mean t