"It's in the family," Sally murmured; "when things go awry 'long o' them, they jes' naturally take to queerness. The ole general, Miss Ann's father, he done think he was God-a'mighty, long toward the last. I kin see him now a-coming up The Way blessing us-all. They ain't none o' them dangerous, jes' all around cracked, ma'am." "But the little girl, Miss Taber, she ought not to be alone there with Miss Walden. You see I have studied medicine and I know--it is dangerous and--it mustn't be. See here! I cannot do anything without making more trouble. I'm not one of them, but you could go and--well, just take control! Say that you--need shelter and help--you know Miss Walden would do anything for her friends; put it that way and then"--here Marcia Lowe laid some money in the old shrivelled hands, "there will always be money for you to buy what is necessary for the comfort of you all." The keen eyes glittered, and the quick mind was caught by the subtlety of the suggestion. Here was a chance to play great lady; to return favours that long had been conferred upon her, and at the same time retain her respectability and dignity. It was a master stroke and Marcia Lowe felt a glow of self-appreciation. "You can care for her, Miss Taber; you can see that Cynthia is properly looked after, and you can give Miss Walden the joy of her life in thinking that she is able to help you. It is a pardonable bit of deceit, but will you assist me?" After a decent show of hesitation, Sally decided that she would and, at the close of the afternoon, was seated behind the little doctor--with her pitiful store of clothing, jogging in a bundle at her back, on the way to Stoneledge. Miss Lowe set her down at the trail leading up to the old crumbling house, with these words: "If ever my uncle did a kind deed, for you, Miss Taber, do this for him now." Toting up the hill, Sally's thoughts wandered back to Theodore Starr and settled on a certain dark, cold night when he sat in her cabin piling the wood on her fire, while she lay shivering with chill upon her wretched bed. All the charms had failed, the rabbit foot, under the dripping of the north end of the roof had not eased a single pang, and hope was about gone when Starr chanced by. He had meant to ask for a bite and a night's shelter, for he was worn by travel and service, but instead he sat beside her the night through and fought death by the bravery of his spirit and the homely task of keeping warm the shivering body. He had put his coat over her and aroused her to interest and courage. "The Lord does not let one of us off until our day's work is done," he had said even when he himself feared Sally's duties were over. "Ah' mighty right He war'," Sally now muttered, panting up the last rise. "I reckon I got something yet to do."