“DEAR MR. HAGOOD, “You have been so good to me that I awfully hate to leave you, and I hope you won’t blame me for running away, for I couldn’t stay any longer, no more at present, good by with love, “POSEY.” With that she climbed out of the window, closed the blind so that all should be secure again and tiptoeing around into the woodhouse laid the folded note on his basket of kindlings, where Mr. Hagood would find it the first thing in the morning. This done, she put on her shoes and hat, took up her bundle and basket, to go she knew not where; her one thought that it would be away from Mrs. Hagood and the renewed contest which the morning would be sure to bring. As she moved toward the gate the old dog followed her with a wistful whine, as if he was puzzled by and questioned this strange action. “Dear old Rover,” Posey whispered, throwing her arms around his neck, while her tears fell thick on the white star on his forehead, “dear old doggie, you must go back; I can’t take you with me. I wish I could and Mr. Hagood, too, so go back, old fellow, and stay with him,” and with one last hug she shut the gate between them, with a real pain in her heart; and also shut the gate to the only place in the wide world that she could call home. Already she had thought, “When Mrs. Hagood misses me she will think I’ve started back to the Refuge (as I’d like to), and so I must go just the other way,” and so it was in this opposite direction that she hurried. And what a strange world this was into which she had come, the world of night, of mystery, of strange quiet, of brooding peace. All the well-known objects took on a new and unfamiliar look, as though they had different faces for the day and the night. In the solemn stillness sounds unheard by day became strangely distinct—for the first time she heard the spring at the foot of the hill falling into its rocky basin; the cry of a hidden cricket, the rustle in the wind of the already fallen leaves, the crow of a rooster in a neighboring barn—sounds all that in the day she would hardly have noticed, how loud and eerie they were now! In all the village but one light was burning, in the room of an old man who had been long sick and was near death. As Posey saw it she wondered if when people died they went out into the night alone, and felt strange and perhaps afraid. A few hours before she had almost wished she could die, but now she shivered a little at the thought as well as the chill of the night air, and the strange sensation of being out alone. Yes, she was glad to be alive, even if there did not seem to be any place anywhere for her.