“But _you_ must not.... You will not say it again--?” It was half a command. “Don’t ever say it again, Ellen.” “No--o--” It was reassuring and polite-half drawled; and it dismissed the subject idly--They had dwelt on it too long. “Where is the key?” She was dipping toward the paper, peering close. “The key?” He stared a little--“Oh--yes--This is the key.” His pencil touched the parallel lines. “That ’s a railroad,” she said promptly. He smiled. “It is the key, too--See--” He drew more lines rapidly, “When this touches the mountain, the iron and silver will come pouring out and it will run down this track--here, and here--” The pencil moved fast. She followed it with grave eyes. She drew a deep breath and leaned closer to him. She lifted her face with a smile. It had caught the glow in his--but she did not speak. He fell to sketching again and she nestled in his arm. By-and-by she put out a short finger. “Does folks live there--or Brownies!” she said, half whispering the words. He looked up absently--“Where--Oh--on the mountain?--People live there--I suppose--” “You ever seen them?” “No,”--still absently. She sighed a little. “I like folks,” she said. “What?” He paused in his thought and looked at her with a smile--tolerant and old--“You like folks, do you?” The look teased her. She nodded gravely. “They ’ll be glad--” Her finger was tapping at the mountain--“They ’ll _like_ to have the beautiful things come _pouring out_--” She spread her hands with a little gesture of beneficent plenty. He stared at her a minute--then he laughed. “I suppose they will.... I had n’t thought of it.” His eyes dwelt on her fondly. “Yes.--They ’ll like it.--They ’re nice folks.” “How do _you_ know?--You seen them?” They often played like this. “I know.” She nodded wisely. “There’s fahvers and muwers and little uns--bairns-like me.” She was looking at something far away--Then her eyes flashed back to his. “They ’ll like it,” she said swiftly, “They ’ll help--They ’ll bring out the beautiful things--great handfuls!” She threw them out with her lavish little hands. He caught them both in one of his. But he was not looking at her. He was seeing something far off... something the child’s words made him see.... He looked at it so long that one of the hands freed itself and reached up to the intent face, stroking it.... Then he looked down and saw her. He smiled at her--with deep eyes... with the little shadow playing in them--far back.... “So you love folks?” he said slowly. “We must e’en love everybody,” she repeated as if it were a lesson. “Everybody?” He looked at her, a little startled at the words. The clear eyes lifted themselves--“Gran-’ther says we must do justice to all men,” she said gravely. “But Grannie says we must forgi’e ’em--she says we must e’en _love_ ’em.” “Then you must love him--the bad man.” He said the words half teasingly, half gravely.