ore folk.

"Your father has had a stroke, Priscilla," Farwell said in reply to her
question; "it has made him blind. Long Jean cares for him. He will have
no other near him."

"And--he never wants me?" Priscilla whispered.

"No; but he needs you!" Boswell muttered. "You must let your velvety
wings brush his dark life; the touch will comfort him."

"And old Jerry?"

Farwell leaned forward to poke the fire.

"Old Jerry," said he, "has gone mildly--mad. All day he sits dressed in
his best, ready to start for Jerry-Jo's. He fancies that scapegoat of his
has a mansion and fortune, and is expecting his arrival. He amuses
himself by packing and unpacking a mangy old carpet-bag. Mary McAdam
looks after him and the village youngsters play with him. It's rather
a happy ending, after all."

Many a time after that Priscilla packed and unpacked the old carpet-bag,
while Jerry rambled on of his great and splendid lad to the "Miss from
the States."

"It's weak I am to-day, ma'am," he would say, "but to-morrow, to-morrow!
'Tis the Secret Portage I'll make for; the Fox is a bit too tricky for my
boat--a fine boat, ma'am. I'm thinking the Big Bay may be a trifle rough,
but the boat's a staunch one. Jerry-Jo's expecting me; but he'll
understand."

"I am sure he will be glad to see you, sir." Priscilla learned to play
the sad game. The children taught her and loved her, and all the quiet
village kept her secret. Mary McAdam claimed her, but Priscilla clung
to the two men who meant the only comfort she could know. They never
questioned her; never intruded upon her sad, and often pitiful, reserve;
but they yearned over her and cheered her as best they could.

Priscilla's visits to her father's house were often dramatic. At first
the sound of her voice disturbed and excited the blind man pathetically.

"Eh? eh?" he stormed, holding to Long Jean's hand; "who comes in my
door?"

"Oh! a lass--from the States," Jean replied with a reassuring pat on the
bony shoulder.

"From the States?" suspiciously.

"Aye. She's taken training in one of them big hospitables, and is a
friend to the crooked gentleman who bides with Master Farwell. The lass
comes to give me lessons in my trade." Jean had a touch of humour.

"I'll have no fandangoing with me!" asserted Glenn, settling back in his
chair. "Old ways are good enough for me, Jean, and remember that, if you
value your place. I want no woman about me who has notions different from
what