away, you know."

"You must go at once," said Maggie, recalled to common sense by another
glance at the sleeping child. "The baby's but weakly, and there ain't
nothing here as I can give her, except the sperits and water, until
Nurse comes. I'll lay her just for a minute on the straw here, and go
out with you and put you on the track. You follow the track right on
until you see the lights in the village. Sleepy Hollow's right in the
village, and most likely there'll be a light in the Doctor's study
window; be quick, for Heaven's sake, Miss Flower?"

"Yes, I'm off. Oh, Maggie, Maggie! what do you think? That dreadful
woman has stolen my shoes. I forgot all about it until this minute. What
shall I do? I can't walk far in my stockings."

"Have my boots, Miss; they're hob-nailed, and shaped after my foot,
which is broad, as it should be, seeing as I'm only a kitchen-maid. But
they're strong, and they are sure to fit you fine."

"I could put my two feet into one of them," responded Flower, curling
her proud lip once again disdainfully. But then she glanced at the baby,
and a queer shiver passed over her; her eyes grew moist, her hands
trembled.

"I will put the boots on," she said. And she slipped her little feet, in
their dainty fine silk stockings, into Maggie's shoes.

"Good-by, Miss; come back as soon as you can," called out the faithful
waiting-maid, and Flower set off across the lonely moor.

CHAPTER IX.

AN OLD SONG.

It took a great deal to frighten Polly Maybright; no discipline, no hard
words, no punishments, had ever been able to induce the smallest
sensation of fear in her breast. As to the moor, she had been brought up
on it; she had drank in its air, and felt its kindly breath on her
cheeks from her earliest days. The moors were to Polly like dear,
valued, but somewhat stern, friends. To be alone, even at night, in one
of the small ravines of Peg-Top Moor had little in itself to alarm the
moorland child.

It took Polly some time to realize that she was absolutely unable to
stir a step. Struggle as she might, she could not put that badly-injured
foot to the ground. Even she, brave and plucky as she was, had not the
nerve to undergo this agony. She could not move, therefore she could do
nothing at present to recover little Pearl. This was really the thought
which distressed her. As to sleeping with her head pressed against the
friendly bracken, or staying on Peg-Top Moor all night, these were