that moment Jan-an came stumbling into the room.

One look and the dull, faithful creature became a machine carrying out
the routine that she had often shared with others on the Point.

"She ain't dead!" she announced after one terrified glance, and then
she dragged Mary-Clare to the couch; ran for water; took a towel from
a nail and bathed the white, stained face. During this Noreen's sobs
grew less and less, she became quieter and was able, presently, to
assist Jan-an.

"She's had a fall," Jan-an announced. Mary-Clare opened her eyes--the
words found an echo in her heavy brain.

"Yes," she whispered.

"And on an empty stummick!" Jan-an had a sympathetic twinge.

"Yes," again Mary-Clare whispered and smiled.

"Noreen, you go on sopping her face--I'm going to get something hot."

And while Noreen bathed and soothed the face upon the pillow into
consciousness and reason, Jan-an made a fire on the hearth, carried
water from a spring outside, and brought forth tea and some little
cakes from the cupboard. The girl's face was transfigured; she was
thinking, thinking, and it hurt her to think consecutively--but she
thought on.

"Norrie darling, I am all right. Quite all right." At last Mary-Clare
was able to assert herself; she rose unsteadily and Jan-an sprang to
her side.

"Lay down," she commanded in a new and almost alarming tone. "Can't
yer see, yer must hold on ter yerself a spell? Let me take the lead--I
know, I know!"

And Mary-Clare realized that she did! Keenly the two gazed at each
other, Eve's two children! Mary-Clare sank back; her face quivered;
her eyes filled with weak tears.

Outside the darkness of the coming storm pressed close, the wind was
straining at the leash, the lightning darted and the thunder rolled.

"The storm," murmured Mary-Clare, "the storm! It is the breaking up of
summer!"

The stale cakes and the hot tea refreshed the three, and after an hour
Mary-Clare seemed quite herself. She went to the door and looked out
into the heart of the storm. The red lightning ran zigzag through the
blackness. It seemed like the glad summer, mad with fear, seeking a
way through the sleet and rain.

Bodily bruised and weary, mentally exhausted and groping, Mary-Clare
still felt that strange freedom she had experienced while Larry was
devastating all that she had believed in, and for which she had given
of her best.

She felt as one must who, escaping from an overwhelming flood, looks
upon