he letter. Accordingly, when Mrs. Warren's knock at the cottage door
was answered by a kind-looking, pale-faced woman, Connie raised her
bright blue eyes to the woman's face and listened with deep interest
when Mrs. Warren inquired how the poor little boy was.

"Is it Ronald?" said the woman, whose name was Mrs. Cricket. "He's ever
so much better; he's taken kindly to his food, and is out in the woods
now at the back of the house playing all by himself."

"In the woods is he, now?" said Mrs. Warren. "Well, I ha' come to fetch
him 'ome."

"Oh ma'am, I don't think he's as strong as all that."

"I ha' come to fetch him 'ome by the wishes of his parients," said Mrs.
Warren. "I suppose," she added, "there's no doubt in yer moind that I
'_ave_ come from the parients of the boy?"

"Oh no, ma'am--none, o' course. Will you come in, and I'll fetch him?"

"Is he quite right in the 'ead now?" said Mrs. Warren as she and Connie
followed Mrs. Cricket into the cottage.

"He's better," said that good woman.

"No talk o' dark rooms and nasty nightmares and cruel old women? All
those things quite forgot?" asked Mrs. Warren.

"He ain't spoke o' them lately."

"Well then, he's cured; he's quite fit to come 'ome. This young lydy is
a r'lation o' hisn. I ha' brought her down to see 'im, and we'll all
travel back to town together.--You might go and find him, my dear," said
Mrs. Warren, turning to Connie, and meanwhile putting her finger to her
lips when Mrs. Cricket's back was turned in order to enjoin silence on
the girl.

"You run out into the woods, my purty, and find the dear little boy and
bring him back here as fast as yer like."

"Yes, missy," said Mrs. Cricket, opening the back door of the cottage,
"you run out, straight up that path, and you'll find little Ronald."

Connie obeyed. She was glad to be alone in order to collect her
thoughts. A wild idea of running away even now presented itself to her.
But looking back, she perceived that Mrs. Warren had seated herself by
the kitchen window and had her bold eyes fixed on her retreating little
figure. No chance of running away. She must trust to luck, and for the
present she must carry out Mrs. Warren's instructions.

Presently she came up to the object of her search--an exceedingly
pretty, dark-haired boy of about ten years of age. His face was pale,
his features regular, his eyes very large, brown, and soft, like rich
brown velvet. He did not pay much attention to Conni