he danger there is destroyed. The
mines are cleaned out." She was reading from her notes.

"Yes." Mary-Clare was impressed.

"And there's iron on the Point--we must get at that--you own the
Point?"

"No; I gave it to my husband." The words were whispered. "And he sold
it to a Mr. Northrup." There was no holding back in King's Forest
these days.

"I see. Well, we must get this Mr. Northrup busy, then. Where is he?"

Mrs. Dana tucked the book away and her eyes looked kindly into
Mary-Clare's.

"I do not know. He went to his--to the city--New York."

"And you have never heard from him?"

"No."

"Well, Mrs. Rivers, I am your friend and the friend of the Forest.
Together, we ought to be able to do it a good turn. And now, if you
are willing, I would love to borrow your little girl."

On the lake road Noreen, after a few skirmishes, succumbed to one of
her sudden likings--she abandoned herself to Mrs. Dana's charm. With
her head coquettishly set slantwise she fixed her grave eyes--they
were very like her mother's--on Mrs. Dana's face.

"I like the look of you," she confided softly.

"I'm glad. I like the look of you very much, little Noreen."

"Do you know any stories or songs?" Noreen had her private test.

"I used to, but it has been a long while since I thought about them.
Do you know any, Noreen?"

"Oh! many. My man taught me. He taught me to be unafraid, too."

"Your man, little girl?" Mrs. Dana turned her eyes away.

"Yes'm. Jan-an, she's a bit queer, you know, Jan-an says the
ghost-wind brought him. He only stayed a little while, but things
aren't ever going to be the same again. No'm, not ever! He even liked
Jan-an, and most folks don't--at first. His name is Mr. Northrup, but
Jan-an and I call him The Man."

"And he sang for you?"

"Yes'm. We sang together, marching along--this way!" Noreen swung the
hand that held hers. "Do you know--'Green jacket, red cap'?" she
asked.

"I used to. It goes something like this--doesn't it?

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

I have forgotten the rest." Mrs. Dana closed her eyes.

"Oh! that's kingdiferous," Noreen laughed with delight. "I'll sing the
rest, then we'll sing together:

"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."

They were keeping step and singing, rather brokenly, for Noreen was
thinking