dragged every foot of the mill race and the creek for a long distance
below the dam. Never a trace of her did they find. A night or two
before there had been a family of wanderers camped in a grove near by.
It was conjectured that they might have stolen the child; but when
their wagon was overtaken and searched she could not be found.

The miller remained at the mill for nearly two years; and then his
hope of finding her died out. He and his wife moved to the Northwest.
In a few years he was the owner of a modern mill in one of the
important milling cities in that region. Mrs. Strong never recovered
from the shock caused by the loss of Aglaia, and two years after they
moved away the miller was left to bear his sorrow alone.

When Abram Strong became prosperous he paid a visit to Lakelands and
the old mill. The scene was a sad one for him, but he was a strong
man, and always appeared cheery and kindly. It was then that he was
inspired to convert the old mill into a church. Lakelands was too
poor to build one; and the still poorer mountaineers could not assist.
There was no place of worship nearer than twenty miles.

The miller altered the appearance of the mill as little as possible.
The big overshot-wheel was left in its place. The young people who
came to the church used to cut their initials in its soft and slowly
decaying wood. The dam was partly destroyed, and the clear mountain
stream rippled unchecked down its rocky bed. Inside the mill the
changes were greater. The shafts and millstones and belts and pulleys
were, of course, all removed. There were two rows of benches with
aisles between, and a little raised platform and pulpit at one end.
On three sides overhead was a gallery containing seats, and reached
by a stairway inside. There was also an organ--a real pipe organ--in
the gallery, that was the pride of the congregation of the Old Mill
Church. Miss Phoebe Summers was the organist. The Lakelands boys
proudly took turns at pumping it for her at each Sunday's service.
The Rev. Mr. Banbridge was the preacher, and rode down from Squirrel
Gap on his old white horse without ever missing a service. And Abram
Strong paid for everything. He paid the preacher five hundred dollars
a year; and Miss Phoebe two hundred dollars.

Thus, in memory of Aglaia, the old mill was converted into a blessing
for the community in which she had once lived. It seemed that the
brief life of the child had brought about more good than t