"Come and see for yourself, little Miss Cyn." The tone was friendly and kind, and the actual necessity of the future gripped Cynthia. "Come and see. I know what is due to you and your folks, Miss Cynthia; I don't ask you to work 'long of the others. I have work for you right in my office where I can have an eye to your comfort and pleasure. Just copying letters and addressing envelopes and I will give you"--Crothers paused; his sudden desire was carrying him perilously near the danger point of being ridiculous--"I'll give you three dollars every week. Three whole dollars!" With vivid memory Cynthia recalled the long years that it had taken to earn the three dollars for Sandy's venture and she gave a little gasp. "Three whole dollars! And you can get down to the factory after you make the old lady comfortable, and I can let you have a little mule--all for yourself--to tote you to and fro." "It's--it's very kind of you, Mr. Crothers," Cynthia panted; "I'll ask----" Then of a sudden she recollected that there was no one to ask. For the first time in her life she was confronted by an overpowering condition that she must meet alone! Just then a sharp touch of cold struck her as the changing wind found the thin place in her coarse gown. "I'll--I'll come, and thank you, Mr. Crothers," she said in shaking voice. "I'll come, next week!" "Good!" cried Crothers, "and I'll send up the mule--we'll put its feed in saddle bags--I'll throw that in and----" the smile on the man's face almost frightened Cynthia, though the words that followed seemed to give it the lie. "I'm going to have one of the men stack wood for you, too, and lay in some winter vegetables. I don't want you to think badly of me, little Miss Cyn. I want to help you-all." When he had gone Cynthia drew a long breath, and shivered as though some evil thing had threatened or touched her in passing, but an hour later she was thankful her sudden impulse had led her to accept Crothers' offer, for the wind changed and brought from its new quarter a biting warning of winter. Fires had to be kindled to warm the damp, dreary rooms, and Ann Walden, crouching by the blaze, looked gratefully up into Cynthia's face and laughed that vacant, childish laugh that aroused in the girl the fear that youth knows, and the pity that woman learns. And late that afternoon the little doctor, astride her rugged horse, rode up to the cabin of Sally Taber, and made a business proposition. Sally was gathering wood behind her cabin with a fervour born of fear and knowledge. She knew what the change of wind meant and her wood pile was far from satisfactory. Long before Marcia Lowe came into sight the old woman stood up and listened with keen, flashing eyes alert. "Horse!" she muttered, and then rapidly considered "whose horse?" Not the old doctor's from The Forge, for he never used up horseflesh in that reckless fashion. His circuit was too far and wide for such foolish extravagance.