d finding everything safe
and the dream gone.

"I was just coming down the path with Jan-an, Motherly, when I saw him
going in the house."

"Daddy, dear?"

"Yes, Motherly, Daddy. He left a bag in the house; looked all around
and then came out. I was 'fraid he was coming to you, so I ran and
ran, but Jan-an said she'd stay and fix him if he did."

"Noreen!" The tone was stern and commanding.

"Well, Motherly, Jan-an said that, but maybe she was just funny."

"Of course. Just funny. We must always remember, Noreen, that poor
Jan-an is just funny."

"Yes, Motherly."

Things were reduced to normal by the time the little yellow house was
reached. Jan-an was there, crouched by the fireplace, upon which she
had kindled a welcoming fire after making sure Larry had not gone up
the secret trail.

Rivers was not in evidence, though a weather-stained bag, flung
hastily on the floor, was proof of his hurried call. He did not appear
all day. As a matter of fact, he was at the mines. Failing to find his
wife, he had availed himself of the opportunity of announcing his
presence to his good friend Maclin, and getting from him much local
gossip, and what approval Maclin vouchsafed.

All day, with Jan-an's assistance, Mary-Clare prepared for the
creature comforts of her husband; while Noreen made nervous trips to
door and window. At night Jan-an departed--she seemed glad to go away,
but not sure that she ought to go; Mary-Clare laughed her into good
humour.

"I jes don't like the feelings I have," the girl reiterated; "I'm
creepy."

Mary-Clare packed a bag of food for her and patted her shoulder.

"Come to-morrow," she said, and then, after a moment's hesitation, she
kissed the yearning, vacant face. "You're going to the Point, Jan-an?"
she asked, and the girl nodded.

Noreen, too, had to be petted into a calmer state--her old aversion to
her father sprang into renewed life with each return after an absence.
In a few days the child would grow accustomed to his presence and
accept him with indifference, at least, but there was always this
struggle.

Mary-Clare herself wondered where Larry was; why he delayed, once
having come back to the Forest; but she kept to her tasks of
preparation and reassuring Noreen, and so the day passed.

At eight o'clock, having eaten supper and undressed the child, she sat
in the deep wooden rocker with Noreen in her arms. There was always
one story that had power to claim attention when