knocked on the door of a certain little yellow house set rakishly at
the crossroads, a few miles from King's Forest.

The house gave the impression of wanting to go somewhere but had not
decided upon the direction. Its many windows of shining glass were
like wide-open eyes peering cheerfully forth on life, curiously
interested and hopeful. The shades, if there were any, were rolled
from sight. It might have seemed an empty house but for the appearance
of care and a curl of smoke from the chimney.

Northrup walked across the bit of lawn leading, pathless, to the stone
step, and knocked on the door. It was a very conservative knock but
instantly the door swung in--it was that kind of a door, a welcoming
door--and Northrup was precipitated into a room which, at first
glance, appeared to be full of sunlight, children, and dogs.

As a matter of fact there were two or three little children and an
older girl with a strange, vague face; four dogs and a young person
seated on the edge of a table and engaged, apparently, before
Northrup's arrival, in telling so thrilling a story that the small,
absorbed audience barely noted his entrance. They turned mildly
interested eyes upon him much as they might have upon an unnecessary
illustration adorning the tale.

The figure on the table wore rough knickerbockers, high, rather muddy
boots, a loose jacket, and a cap set crookedly on the head. When
Northrup spoke, the young person turned and he saw that it was a
woman. There was no surprise, at first, in the eyes which met
Northrup's--the door of the little yellow house was constantly
admitting visitors--but suddenly the expression changed to one of
startled wonder. It was the expression of one who, never expecting a
surprise, suddenly is taken unawares.

"I beg your pardon!" stammered Northrup. "I assure you I did knock. I
merely want to ask the direction and distance of Heathcote Inn.
Crossroads are so confusing when one is tired and hungry and----"

Once having begun to speak, Northrup was too embarrassed to stop. The
eyes confronting him were most disconcerting. They smiled; they seemed
to be glad he was there; the girl apparently was enjoying the
situation.

"The inn is three miles down the south road; the lake is just beyond.
Follow that. They serve dinner at the inn at one."

The voice was like the eyes, friendly, vital, and lovely.

Then, as if staged, a clock set on a high shelf announced in crisp,
terse tones the hou