"It is the most miserable misery, Johnny. Do you remember what I told you about those people?" "How could I forget, Nan?" "Well, those people are going head foremost into trouble, and whatever happens, I want to be there." "Oh, is that so? Well, it is too bad," said the little woman sympathetically. "Perhaps if you would say something about it--not too much, but just enough for me to get it through my thick numskull----" Whereupon Nan told of all the fears by which she was beset, and of all the troubles that racked her mind, and the two had quite a consultation. "You are not afraid for yourself; why should you be afraid for those people?" inquired Mrs. Dorrington, laying great stress on "those people," the name that Gabriel went by when Nan and Johnny were referring to him. "Oh, I don't know," replied Nan, helplessly. "It isn't because of what you would guess if you knew no better. I have a very great friendship for those people; but it isn't the other feeling--the kind that you were telling me about. If it is--oh, if it is--I shall never forgive myself." "In time--yes. It is quite easy to forgive yourself on account of those people. I found it so." "Oh, don't! You make me feel as if I ought never to speak to myself." "Then don't," said Mrs. Dorrington, calmly. "You can speak to me instead of to that ignorant girl." "Oh, you sweetest!" cried Nan, hugging her step-mother; "I am going to have you for my doll." "Very well, then," said Mrs. Dorrington, shrugging her shoulders; "but you will have some trouble on your hands--yes, more than those people give you." "Johnny, you are my little mother, and you never gave me any trouble in your life. I am the one that is troublesome; I am troubling you now." "Silly thing! will you be good?" cried Mrs. Dorrington, tapping Nan lightly on the cheek. "How can you trouble me when I don't know what you mean? You haven't told me." "I thought you could guess as well as I can," replied Nan. "About some things--yes; but not about this terrible danger that is to overcome those people." Whereupon, Nan told Mrs. Dorrington of the conversation she and Gabriel had overheard. To this information she added her suspicions that Gabriel intended to do something desperate; and then she gave a very vivid description of the strange white man, of his pale and eager countenance, his glittering, shifty eyes, and his thin, cruel lips. Instead of shuddering, as she should have done, Mrs. Dorrington laughed. "But I don't see what the trouble is," she declared. "That boy is ever so large; he can take care of himself. But if you think not, then ask him to tea." Nan frowned heavily. "But, Johnny, tea is so tame. Think of rescuing a friend from danger by means of a cup of tea! Doesn't it seem ridiculous?" "Of course it is," responded Mrs. Dorrington. "But it isn't half so ridiculous as your make-believe. Oh, Nan! Nan! when will you come down from your clouds?"