he dim woods. Just
ahead and around a curve, she heard Noreen's voice. But was it
Noreen's?

Often, in her wondering moments, Mary-Clare had pictured her little
girl as she longed for her to be--a glad, unthinking creature, such as
Mary-Clare herself had once been, a singing, laughing child. And now,
just out of sight, Noreen was singing.

There was a rich gurgle in the flute-like voice; it came floating
along.

"Oh! tell it again, please! I want to learn it for Motherly. It is
awfully funny--and make the funny face that goes with it--the
crinkly-up face."

"All right. Here goes!

"Up the airy mountain,
Down the rustly glen--

that's the way, Noreen, scuffle your feet in the leaves--

"We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men.
Wee folk, good folk
Trooping all together,
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather--

Here, you, Noreen, play fair; scuffle and keep step, you little
beggar!"

"But I may step on the wee men, the good men," again the rich
chuckle.

"No, you won't if you scuffle and then step high; they'll slip between
your feet."

Then came the tramp, tramp of the oncoming pair. Big feet, little
feet. Long strides and short hops.

So they came in view around the turn of the rough road--Northrup with
Noreen holding his hand and trying to keep step to the swinging words
of the old song.

And Northrup saw Mary-Clare, saw her with a slanting sunbeam on her
radiant face. The romance of Hunter's Point was in her soul, and the
wonder of her child's happiness. She stood and smiled that strange,
unforgettable smile of hers; the smile that had its birth in unshed
tears.

Northrup hurried toward her, taking in, as he came, her loveliness
that could not be detracted from by her mud-stained and rough
clothing. The feeling of knowing her was in his mind; she seemed
vividly familiar.

"Your little daughter got homesick, or mother-sick, Mrs. Rivers"--Northrup
took off his hat--"Aunt Polly gave me the privilege of bringing her to
you. We became friends from the moment we met. We've been making great
strides all day."

"Thank you, Mr.----"

"Northrup."

"Thank you, Mr. Northrup. You have made Noreen very happy--and she
does not make friends easily."

"But, Motherly," Noreen was flushed and eager. "_He_ isn't a friend.
Jan-an told me all about him. He's something the wild-wind brought.
You are, aren't you, Mr. Sir?"

Northrup laughed.

"Well, somethin