"Let's flip out the grains, Cynthia, dear," the little doctor urged; "perhaps some chick can swallow them. We must make hay while the sun shines. Crothers' new factory is looming up and when that whistle blows, good-bye to the Trouble Neck Academy!" It had taken nearly seven years for Smith Crothers to collect his insurance, recover his health, and begin his business career again. He had left The Forge for two years, and since his return had gone slowly about his work of rebuilding and entering the arena. Whatever he thought or remembered of the night when his factory was burned, no one, but himself, knew. From a grim shadow of his former self he regained his health and looks; he nodded to Cynthia when he met her on The Way and the girl tossed her head at him indifferently. Only Marcia Lowe was anxious. "Cynthia," she said, "promise me that you will not wander in the woods alone!" "Not without a pistol," the girl replied. "I'm a mighty good shot, dear Cup-of-Cold-Water Lady!" But Marcia Lowe shook her head. When Cynthia went downstairs that May morning, Sally Taber had the plain breakfast on the dining-room table, and her face looked drawn and worried. "Miss Cyn," she said, when she had set the corn bread and milk before the girl, "las' night ole Miss war right troublesome." "You have been up a good deal, Sally?" "I sho' have. Ole Miss took to wandering and nothing would suit her but de libry. I done made a fire there and let her play. She done dig at the hearthstone an' laughed and babbled 'til long 'bout three o'clock, then I carried her upstairs and laid her in her bed same as if she was a lil' tired out babby." "Dear Sally!" Cynthia's eyes shone. "I'll stay home to-day and let you sleep." "I reckon you will do nothin' like that! Ole Miss will be good for mos' the mornin' an' I'se goin' to patch up the libry. If ole Miss takes a fancy to that-er-room, she goin' to have what she wants! If she wants to pick 'long o' the hearthstone, she is goin' to do that; I'll loosen it up." "I will watch her to-night, then!" Cynthia said, "and I'll be back right early this evening, Sally." Just as Cynthia reached The Way, she met Martin Morley. "Good morning, lil' Miss Cyn," he greeted; "seems like you be part of this yere pretty day." "Good morning, Mr. Morley. You look right smart and dandified." Morley was neatly and decently attired and his calm, clear eyes were steady and full of purpose. The "charm" had held good with him, and ever since the well-fought battle in the little doctor's lean-to chamber, he had gradually worked his way back to self-respect and content. Mary and Molly had drifted from his life so effectually that he had accepted the inevitable and never mentioned their names. "Where you going, Mr. Morley?" "I am going down to The Forge," Martin answered. "They-all say the young manager for that company what's going to build a factory up higher has come, and I'm going to try and get a job."