nds. It belongs to Sandy McQuarry, but he would
be giv----" He paused, for the fierce eyes opened upon him--"renting
it," he substituted hastily.

"I will go there," whispered the sick man, and Gilbert stooped and
raised him gently.

"And what will your name be?" asked Uncle Hughie, striving in his pity
to say something friendly which this strange man would not resent.

"My name," said the man slowly, "my name"--he stood and looked about
him in a dazed way--"yes, yes, it's McIntyre--John McIntyre." He
wavered a moment, then fell, fainting, in the young doctor's arms.

CHAPTER IV

THE ORPHAN ARRIVES

O little wild feet, too softly white
To roam the world's tempestuous night,
The years like sleet on my windows beat,
Come in and be cherished, O little wild feet.
My heart is a house deep-walled and warm,
To cover you from the night and storm.
--C. G. D. ROBERTS.

Miss Arabella Winter and her parrot lived alone in a tiny house, next
door to her brother's home, and were "managed," in company with the
rest of the village, by her smart sister-in-law. In all Susan Winters'
realm there was no more obedient subject than the meek little lilac
lady.

She had been very pretty in her youth, and much of her girlhood's
beauty lingered yet in the faint pink of her cheeks and the droop of
her long lashes. Her golden-brown hair was still abundant and wavy,
though in accordance with her sister-in-law's instructions she pulled
it back so tightly that its undulations were quite smoothed out. And
just so Miss Arabella tied down and smoothed out all the beauty curves
of her life to suit the rigid lines of Susan's methods. That she ever
longed for more breadth and freedom could never have entered the head
of any one in the village. But then the village did not know the real
Miss Arabella.

She was hurrying through her morning's work, for a column of smoke
curling up from the other side of her next neighbor's orchard told that
the Sawyers had returned; and if Susan did not mind, she hoped she
might run over and see what kind of baby Jake and Hannah had brought
home.

She shook the breakfast tablecloth out at the back door, and the hens
came running to pick up the crumbs. Like all houses in Elmbrook, Miss
Arabella's front door looked out upon the narrow confines of the
village street, with its double row of elms and maples; but her back
door commanded a view of a whole world of sky and field a