Clinker submitted to being tied under one of the sheds, and Janet hurried around to the front porch. Mrs. Todd had offered her the key Mr. Simpson had, but she had said she would rather go in the old way. Everything was very still, and somehow she felt the loneliness of it all more than ever. The roof seemed to sag dejectedly, and a few dead autumn leaves swishing in the wind against the front door added to the unnatural dreariness. She shivered a little before she slipped through the window. She wanted more than anything else in the world at that moment to hear Peter's cheery "hello." Once in the library, she went straight to the books and ran her hand over them as if to find consultation in their worn backs. She finally selected a little book bound in red. It opened readily, more readily than usual, at a little poem. Janet sat down on the floor and started to read aloud to herself. There was something in the rhythm that always comforted her when she was lonely. Surely Mrs. Browning had understood much when she wrote "Little Ellie." Janet read it idly: "Little Ellie sits alone 'Mid the beeches of a meadow, By a stream-side on the grass. And the trees are showering down, Doubles of their leaves in shadow On her shining hair and face. "She has thrown her bonnet by And her feet she has been dipping In the shallow water's flow; Now she holds them nakedly In her hands all sleek and dripping While she rocketh to and fro." "Little Ellie sits alone, And the smile she has been using Fills the silence like a speech, While she thinks what shall be done And the sweetest pleasure chooses For her future within reach." Many and many an afternoon Janet had read the beginning of the little poem and then chosen the sweetest pleasure for herself and lost the rest of the day in dreams. She looked up from the pages with a sigh, then her eyes fell on a folded piece of paper lying on the floor beside her. She picked it up and opened it. Idle curiosity gave place to excited interest as she read: "_Dear Princess:_ "I am sorry to go away without another good-by, but I must. Doc was coming here to see me, and I knew if he talked to me I would give in and that wouldn't be fair to either of us, and Dad would never approve. I'm awfully glad you know the owner of the 'E.K.,' for now I can always think of you there. "I left the canoe on the bank below your house, and I rowed your boat back. When I get a job in the West I will write and tell you about it if you want me to, and of course some day I will see you again. "Good-by again, and thanks for being such a good little pal. "PETER GIBBS." Janet's eyes were blurred long before she came to the end of the letter, and as she finished reading two big tears splashed on to the book in her lap. She stood up and looked about the room forlornly; the old gloves were gone from their accustomed place on the table. CHAPTER XII JANET'S PASSENGER