How long she stood rapt in her vision Cynthia never knew. Her day of wonders enchanted and held her oblivious of weariness, hunger, or physical pain, but she must get to Trouble Neck; she must throw herself into the safe arms of the little doctor and--find peace and guidance. Later they--the Cup-o'-Cold-Water Lady and she--would go to Sandy's cabin as they had that night when Lans had claimed her and then--well, beyond that Cynthia could not see! At Trouble Neck another disappointment met her. The trim cabin was empty! The unlocked door gave way to the eager pressure; the sunny room was full of generous welcome, and a gleam of fire on the hearth showed that the little mistress had not been gone long. Some people leave a room more vacant than others. Like the breath of perfume, after the flower has been removed, their personality and dearness linger, making one miss them more, and long for them more keenly. As a child might suffer at not finding its mother awaiting it at the close of day Cynthia suffered then. She wandered to the table on which lay the little doctor's work--a child's dress! Beside it was a medical book opened at a chapter on the diseases of--children. And on the widespread book lay an unsealed note addressed to--Tod Greeley! A smile, a wan, understanding smile touched Cynthia's lips, but presently it softened into the dear, old, slow smile, and the girl bent and kissed the penciled name of the postmaster, for the dear, absent hand had rested there last! There were bread and milk and bacon in the pantry, and with happy familiarity Cynthia made a meal for herself, and ate heartily. After this she went into the lean-to chamber and taking off her hat and wraps, lay down upon the couch, for she began to realize how weary she was. She slept several hours and was awakened by a step in the outer room. Thinking it was Marcia Lowe she raised herself and looked through the half-opened door. It was Tod Greeley! He had lighted the oil lamp and stood by the table with Marcia's note in his hand. Over and again he read it, then folded it slowly and put it in his breast pocket. A change had been wrought upon Greeley. He stood straight and firm; he was shaven and shorn and neatly dressed; his face was happier, too, than Cynthia had ever seen it. The lazy good humour was merged into purpose and dignity. "To-morrow, then!" Cynthia heard him murmur; "to-morrow then!" He extinguished the light and passed from the house, leaving Cynthia more lonely than she had been since she left the train that morning. For an hour or two Cynthia struggled with herself. Abstractedly she knew that she ought not to go to Sandy Morley alone. Something that some one--she could not remember who or where--taught her, warned her that it was not right for her to leave Trouble Neck that evening. "But why?" asked the great longing, "why?" "You are Lans Treadwell's wife; his wife!"