Tatters, who was huddled close to Brooke, raised his head and gave a weird howl, and for a moment no one had either power of speech or motion. Brownell was the first to recover, and going quickly to the front door, he threw it open and looked out The giant button-ball inside the fence was split from crown to trunk, and great twisted splinters littered the short grass; but the old pine, holding the Sign of the Fox upon one of its gnarled arms, stood safe and intact like a good omen. “Look at father!” were Brooke’s first words, spoken as Brownell returned, and the entire group about the table watched him in wonder. At the flash his eyes had closed and a tremor passed over him, but when he opened them again, a new intelligence was there. Slowly he looked about; then, noticing the keys, that had remained between his fingers, he clasped them tightly with an exclamation of satisfaction, and, turning toward his wife, who had drawn close to his chair, said slowly, with perfect articulation, yet hesitatingly, as if each word suggested its neighbour: “Mela, here are those keys of the new box that I hired to-day to hold your little belongings. I—seem—to—have—dreamed—that I—lost—them! I may have a business ordeal—to go through—and what little belongs to you—and—daughter must be put apart—in—safety. I took—this—in the name—of Adam West, and to-morrow Brooke must go—also—to be recognized—Where am I? how—did I come here at the old home?” Slipping from her chair, Brooke went to her mother, and gently, each holding a hand, they wheeled the chair back to the familiar bedroom, so that neither place nor people should cause the return of memory to rush too swiftly and overtax itself. Brooke left her father and mother together there, and going to the library, wrote a brief note to Dr. Russell, asking his guidance in this new crisis that might mean so much or so little. CHAPTER XVIII THE RETURN OF MEMORY Of the household at the homestead, one heart sank instead of rejoicing, at the first sign of the return of memory to Adam Lawton. This one bumped painfully in the chest of the Cub, as, leaving the room unnoticed, with face pale as it had not been for months, and unheeding the flapping sheets of rain that smote and enveloped at the same moment, he fled to the barn and threw himself with head buried in his arms on the dwindling haymow that had once sheltered the little fox.