All through the night Sinth had been thinking of their new trouble and was in a way prepared for the worst. But now, as she was leaving forever the old, familiar trees and the still water she sat down for awhile and covered her face. Already the saws had begun their work. She could hear them gnawing and hissing and the shouts and axes of the woodsmen. Socky and Sue came near their aunt and stood looking at her, their cheeks tear-stained, their sympathy now and then shaking them with half-suppressed sobs. The reason for their departure and for the coming of the woodsmen they were not able to understand. Zeb lay lolling on his stomach, bored, but, like his master, hoping for better times. "Aunt Sinthy--you 'fraid?" Sue ventured to ask, and her doll hung limp from her right hand. Socky felt his sword and looked up into the face of his aunt. "Where we goin'?" he asked, with another silent sob. "Pon my soul, I dunno," Sinth answered, wearily. "Don't you be 'fraid," he said, waving his sword manfully. Sinth took her knitting out of the satchel and sat down comfortably on a bed of leaves. Zeb began to growl and run around them in a circle, like the cheerful jester that he was. It seemed as if he were trying to remind them that, after all, the situation was not hopeless. He continued his gyrations until Socky and Sue joined him. Soon the big trees began falling and their thunder and the hoots of the "briermen" echoed far. The children came to their aunt. "What's that?" they asked, with awe in their faces. "The trees," Sinth answered, solemnly. "They're a-mowin' of 'em down." In a moment, thinking of the young man who had heartlessly put her out, she added: "I guess he'll find he's hurt himself more'n he has us." "Who?" Socky asked. "That mehopper." The children turned with a look of interest. "What's a mehopper?" Socky asked. Sinth sat looking thoughtfully at her knitting. "He steals folks' albums," said Sue, confidently, "an' he can run like a deer." "Ain't a bit like a deer," Sinth responded. "He can't go nowhere but down-hill--that's why ye always find him in low places--an' he's so 'fraid folks won't see him that he swears an' talks about himself." Sue looked at her aunt as if she thought her a woman of wonderful parts. "He better look out for the Sundayman," Sinth continued. "Who's the Sundayman?" they both asked. "He's a wonderful hunter an' he ketches all the wicked folks," Sinth answered. "An' them that swears he makes 'em into mehoppers, an' them that does cruel things he turns their hearts into stones, an' them that steals he takes away everything they have, an' if anybody lies he makes a fool of 'em so they b'lieve their own stories, an' he takes an' marks the face of every one he ketches so if ye look sharp ye can always tell 'em."