Below them Walter, the horse, whinnied softly as he sensed their nearness. Birds twittered in their nests about them. One or two late comers flitted swiftly past their heads to join their feathered families. "I like it better than being in the house," exclaimed Mollie, much less dismayed by the prospect of living in the barn than Stephen had expected. "I'd rather be in a barn with God's sparrows and a horse than with an ogre in the most beau-ti-ful castle in the world." "So would I," said Stephen, after a moment's reflection. The ogre who had banished the children rubbed the palms of his horny hands together and smiled greedily as he counted his ill-gotten money. The high, newly constructed portal to his terrible castle was locked and barred; the warning bell was silent. The surrounding moat gave forth a heavy, fetid odor that poisoned the breath of summer blossoms borne on the still night air. But up in the barn loft the two little prisoners knelt by the open window, above all sordid things, and watched the moon rise over the tree tops while they inhaled the pure air of heaven. CHAPTER VI NEW VICTIMS "His children are far from safety, and they are crushed in the gate, neither is there any to deliver them."--Job v, 4 Momentous events followed the children's transfer to the barn loft. In many respects they found themselves better off than in the small, windowless alcove into which they had been thrust so summarily on the night of their arrival at the farm-house. In the barn there was more freedom. They were not subjected to annoyance from the insufferable Ambrose nor to the brutality of Peter. They could talk without fear of restraint and, when there was no likelihood of interruption, could pore over the picture books which Stephen had so thoughtfully secreted. "Don't ever let Pete get hold of those books," Stephen warned Mollie. "He'd only tear them up and throw them in the bog." "Or give them to that fat cry-baby," supplemented Mollie, whose dread of the Grimes child increased daily. So the gaudy little booklets of animal and Biblical stories which had been given to the orphan lad on the previous Christmas were treasured with the utmost care. To the isolated children they represented their only connection with a happy past, the link that united them with the world from which they would otherwise have been completely severed. There were long hours in the early evening before darkness descended during which the books could be studied with impunity. As long as the children were quiet and out of sight and hearing of their persecutors they were unmolested. For this they were mutely grateful. During these same evening hours the Grimes family was sufficient unto itself. In silence its members sat about, each absorbed according to individual bent or preference.