"A dollar, Jan-an? A whole dollar?" This was almost unbelievable. Jan-an produced the evidence from her loose and soiled blouse. "He left his place terribly tidy, too," she ran on, "and when a man does that Peneluna says it's awful suspicious." "Jan-an, you wait here--I'm going up to the cabin!" Noreen stood up defiantly. She was possessed by one of her sudden flashes of inspiration. "Yer ain't been called," warned Jan-an. "I know, but I _must_ go. I'll only peep in. Maybe Motherly took a back way to the inn." To this Jan-an had nothing to say and she sat down upon a wet rock to wait, while Noreen darted up the trail like a small, distracted animal of the woods. It was growing dark and heavy with storm; the thunder was more distinct--there was a hush and a breathless suggestion of wind held in check by a mighty force. Noreen reached the shack and peeped in at the vine-covered window. What she saw marked a turning-point in the child's life. Mary-Clare was still stretched upon the floor. Several things had happened to her since Larry fled; she was never clearly to account for them. She had been conscious and had drifted into unconsciousness several times. She had tried, she recalled that later, to get to the couch, but her aching head had driven the impulse into oblivion. She had fallen back on the floor. Then, again, she roused and there was blood--near her. Not much, but she had not noticed it before, and she must have fainted. Again, she could remember thinking of Noreen, of the others; and the necessity of keeping forever hidden the thing that had happened. But again Mary-Clare, from exhaustion or faintness, slipped into silence, and so Noreen found her! The child went swiftly into the still cabin and knelt beside her mother. She was quite calm, at first, and unafraid. She took the dear head on her lap and patted the white cheek where the little cut had let out the blood--there was dry blood on it now and that caused Noreen to gasp and cry out. Back and forth the child swayed, mumbling comforting words; and then she spoke louder, faster--her words became wild, disconnected. She laughed and cried and called for every one of her little world in turn. Uncle Peter! Aunt Polly! Peneluna! And then Jan-an! Jan-an! As she sobbed and screamed Mary-Clare's eyes opened and she smiled. At that moment Jan-an came stumbling into the room. One look and the dull, faithful creature became a machine carrying out the routine that she had often shared with others on the Point. "She ain't dead!" she announced after one terrified glance, and then she dragged Mary-Clare to the couch; ran for water; took a towel from a nail and bathed the white, stained face. During this Noreen's sobs grew less and less, she became quieter and was able, presently, to assist Jan-an. "She's had a fall," Jan-an announced. Mary-Clare opened her eyes--the words found an echo in her heavy brain. "Yes," she whispered.