"Poor little Fairy Godmother!" sympathized David. "It's a shame that trouble like this had to come when all three of you were so happy. I can't make myself believe that it is good old Tom who's among the missing. A sturdy, fearless fellow like him can usually be trusted to take care of himself anywhere. Why, he's tramped all over this country and never met with any accident that I can remember. You and I know that something serious has happened this time, though. Tom would never neglect those he cares for, even in the most trifling matters." "I am sure of that. Still it's good to hear you say what I know to be true. Nothing could shake my faith in Tom. It is absolute." Grace spoke with the frank simplicity of perfect love and trust. During the short walk that lay between the Harlowe's residence and that of Mrs. Gray, David cast more than one covert but admiring glance at the tall, slender girl at his side who bore her difficulties with such signal sweetness and courage. "What a splendid girl Grace is," was his thought. Looking back on their earlier days of comradeship, he recalled gratefully what a power for good she had always been. She had valiantly steered Anne through the breakers that more than once had threatened engulfment. Through Grace, his own sister, Miriam had been shown the way to sincerity and well-doing. Mabel Allison, Ruth Denton, Eleanor Savelli and countless other girls owed the greatest joys that had come to them to this high-principled, impulsive, kindly girl who had lavishly scattered the flowers of generosity and good-will along the pathway of life. Now, at last, there was something which he could do for Grace. David vowed within himself to leave no stone unturned which might be the means of restoring to her the happiness which she so richly merited. The visit to Mrs. Gray proved a severe trial to both young people. Her usual optimistic viewpoint had long since deserted her, leaving her a wan little ghost of the vivacious Fairy Godmother who had once entered so merrily into the doings of her Christmas children. A fixed air of melancholy had dropped down on her which even David's hearty assurances that Tom would soon be found failed to lift. "If any one can find Tom it will be you, David," was the nearest approach toward hopefulness which she could muster. "I'll find him, never fear," predicted David with an air of cheerful certainty that brought faint smiles to both women's somber faces. "I must leave you soon, though, in order to make that late train for New York. Before I go, I'll devise a secret code so that I can telegraph you here at Oakdale if anything good comes to pass."