"And the bogey in Deadman's Glen. For Heaven's sake, Miss Flower, keep to the west of Deadman's Glen." "If Deadman's Glen is a short cut to Sleepy Hollow, I'll walk through it. Maggie, do you want Nurse to come for little Pearl, or not? I don't mind waiting here till morning; it does not greatly matter to me. I was running away, you know." "You must go at once," said Maggie, recalled to common sense by another glance at the sleeping child. "The baby's but weakly, and there ain't nothing here as I can give her, except the sperits and water, until Nurse comes. I'll lay her just for a minute on the straw here, and go out with you and put you on the track. You follow the track right on until you see the lights in the village. Sleepy Hollow's right in the village, and most likely there'll be a light in the Doctor's study window; be quick, for Heaven's sake, Miss Flower?" "Yes, I'm off. Oh, Maggie, Maggie! what do you think? That dreadful woman has stolen my shoes. I forgot all about it until this minute. What shall I do? I can't walk far in my stockings." "Have my boots, Miss; they're hob-nailed, and shaped after my foot, which is broad, as it should be, seeing as I'm only a kitchen-maid. But they're strong, and they are sure to fit you fine." "I could put my two feet into one of them," responded Flower, curling her proud lip once again disdainfully. But then she glanced at the baby, and a queer shiver passed over her; her eyes grew moist, her hands trembled. "I will put the boots on," she said. And she slipped her little feet, in their dainty fine silk stockings, into Maggie's shoes. "Good-by, Miss; come back as soon as you can," called out the faithful waiting-maid, and Flower set off across the lonely moor. CHAPTER IX. AN OLD SONG. It took a great deal to frighten Polly Maybright; no discipline, no hard words, no punishments, had ever been able to induce the smallest sensation of fear in her breast. As to the moor, she had been brought up on it; she had drank in its air, and felt its kindly breath on her cheeks from her earliest days. The moors were to Polly like dear, valued, but somewhat stern, friends. To be alone, even at night, in one of the small ravines of Peg-Top Moor had little in itself to alarm the moorland child.