A tall lattice divided the back of this place from the front. In an instant Margaret had caught up Philip and dashed to the other side of it. She was leaning weakly against it and Philip saying, "Why, mama! what's the matter?" when a door opened in front of her and a tall lady in black appeared. "Well?" she said in surprised interrogative which was not in the least aggressive. It was as if she only meant to understand before she passed judgment. "I beg your pardon, madam, but my little b--my little girl ran into your yard after a squirrel and I came to get her. I--I feel very faint. Would you mind my sitting down?" "Certainly not. Come in." She opened the door through which she had come out and Margaret, who had supposed the door led into the house, found herself on a long, broad porch at the side of the house and looking out upon the bay in front. There were curtains on the east side, and it was a homelike place with rugs and rocking chairs and tables and books. But to Margaret's excited imagination it was but a place where one could be spied out and trapped. "You will find it more pleasant here nearer the front," the lady said, but the girl drew a chair into the furthest corner, saying something about the wind, and sat down with Philip held tightly in her arms. Then desperate with the fear that any moment might bring her enemy upon her, she asked in a choking voice, "Is--is there a place that I could lie down?" "Why, certainly, come right in and lie down on my sofa." Inside the room which had a glazed door and a broad window looking out over the water, Margaret hesitated and then, instead of lying down on the old-fashioned mahogany sofa, drew close to her rescuer. "I am not ill," she said, seizing the soft hand of the elder woman and speaking quickly, "it was only an excuse to get inside. But I am in deep trouble. Will you not help me?" "How can I help you, my child? What is your trouble?" "A man is following me--is trying to get my child. I don't know whether he saw me come in here or not, but if he comes--oh, do not let him get us!" "He shall not see you if you do not wish to be seen." "But if he should force himself in?" "He will not try that, I think." Then, with gentle, courteous directness, "Is this man your husband? Has he any right to the child?" "Oh, no--no. My husband--" She hesitated, took one more look into the strong, forceful face before her, and trusted it. "My husband is dead. I haven't time to explain, but his brother is trying to get my child. Oh! there's that man now!" For a step was heard on the west porch and coming around to the glazed door. "Go into that bedroom," said the lady quickly, pointing to an open door. "And don't be afraid."