"Yes, Motherly." "I may have to rest a little, but you must not be worried--you see, Mother hasn't rested in a long while." Peneluna responded to the call. It was late evening when she and Jan-an came to the yellow house. Before starting for the Point Jan-an had insisted upon getting a meal and afterward she had helped Mary-Clare put Noreen to bed. All this had delayed her. "Now," she said at last, "I'll go. I guess you're edging to the limit, ain't yer?" Mary-Clare nodded. "I've never been sick, not plain sick, in all my life," she murmured, "and why should I be now?" But left alone, she made ready, in a strange way, for what she felt was coming upon her. She undressed carefully and put her room in order. Then she lay down upon her bed and drifted lightly between the known and the unknown. She touched Noreen's sleeping face so gently that the child did not heed the caress. Then: "Perhaps I am going to die--people die so easily at times--just flare out!" And so Peneluna found her and knelt beside her. "You hear me, Mary-Clare?" "Yes. I hear you, of course." "Well, then, child, take this along with you, wherever you bide for a time. I'm here and God Almighty's here and things is safe! You get that?" "Yes, Peneluna." "Then listen--'The solitary place shall be glad--and a highway shall be there--and a way.'" The confused words fell into a crooning song. "Solitary Place----" Mary-Clare drifted to it, her eyes closed wearily, but she smiled and Peneluna believed that she had found The Way. Whether it wound back or out--well! Peneluna turned to her task of nursing. She had the gift of healing and she had an understanding heart, and so she took command. It was a rough and difficult Way and beset with dangers. A physician came and diagnosed the case. "Bad fall--almost concussion." Aunt Polly came and shared the nursing. Jan-an mechanically attended to the house while Uncle Peter took Noreen under his care. The dull, uneventful days dragged on before Mary-Clare came back to her own. One day she said to Jan-an, "I--I want you to go to the cabin, Jan-an. I have given it--back to God. Close the windows and doors--for winter has come!" Jan-an nodded. She believed Mary-Clare was "passing out"--she was frightened and superstitious. She did not pause to explain to Peneluna, in the next room, where she was going, but covering her head and shoulders with an old shawl, she rushed forth. It was bitingly cold and the dry twigs struck against the girl's face like ice. The ghost-wind added terror to the hour, but Jan-an struggled on.