The light came on, and the morning entered the forest. A saucy little squirrel ran up the tree beneath which the girl lay, and, poised on a high twig, looked down and chattered at her noisily. Down fell a bit of bark upon Dawn’s face, and, laughing involuntarily, she sat up and looked about her. The dim aisles of the forest were lit with golden lights now, and the birds, their matins almost finished, were hurrying about with breakfast preparations. A wood-thrush spilled his liquid notes out now and then, like a silver spoon dropped into a glass. A robin called his mate, and a blackbird whistled forth a silken melody. Dawn laughed aloud again at the squirrel, and tossed back the curls that had come loose from the confining comb during her sleep. It was good just to be here and to be free. The squirrel chattered back at her and ran up the tree. Dawn unpinned her bundle and made her simple toilet. There was no brook near, where she could wash her face, but perhaps she would come to one by and by. She combed out her hair as well as she could with only a back-comb, and did it up on her head, for she must have dignity now if she were going out in the world to shift for herself. Then she looked over her small possessions carefully, as a shipwrecked mariner might take account of the wreckage he had saved. She took a kind of fierce joy in the thought that she had brought none of the elaborate garments which her step-mother had prepared for her trousseau. They were all the simple school garments that had been put at the bottom of her trunk. She rolled up the bundle again and pinned it closely, then tied her bonnet on demurely, straightened her frock, and was ready for the day. A soft little pathway of light beckoned her through the woods, and she followed it, her bundle tucked under her cape, her hand-bag with its cords safely twisted about her wrist. The bar of light grew brighter and broader, and led her to another road. Unwittingly, she had come a way that would take her far from the place where she started more directly than any other she could have chosen. The sight of the white road in the dewy morning light gave her new zest for her journey. Her sleep, short though it had been, had rested her wonderfully, and she was eager to get on her way.