She thought his red, wholesome face had a dubious look, but he answered her without actual hesitation. “Not that I know of. Naturally they don’t talk about it here at Tetherstones. It was the scene of a very unhappy tragedy some six years ago.” His eyes rested upon Ruth busy among the corn-sheaves at a little distance. “It was one of the sisters,” he said, “the child’s mother,—a lovely girl—a lovely girl. She died up there in a blizzard one winter night. She was out of her mind at the time. She took the little one with her. When we found them, she was frozen stiff, but the child still lived. Poor mite—poor little girl! She’d better have gone with her mother.” “Oh, why do you say that?” Frances said. “She is happy. There are plenty to love her.” The doctor’s eyes dwelt very tenderly upon the little figure. “I say it because it is true,” he said. “She is not like other children, Miss Thorold. She never will be. She is just—‘a little bit of heaven’ strayed down to earth. She is one of those the gods love.” “Oh, do you mean that?” Frances said. He nodded. “I mean it—yes. I told them long ago—the child won’t live to grow up. They all know it.” “But they take so little care of her!” said Frances. “It is far better she should lead a natural life,” he said. “She is just like a flower of the field. She will have her day—her little day, Miss Thorold. They are wise to leave her alone. Cooped up within four walls she would never have lived so long. Freedom is life to her.” “I often wonder that they dare to let her wander as she does,” Frances said. “It is far better,” said Dr. Square. He turned to her with a smile. “Has it never occurred to you that she is under special protection? I have often thought it. They are all too busy to look after her, yet she is safe and happy. I think she is one of the happiest little souls I have ever met. I have never seen her cry. We need not pity her too much. In fact, I sometimes think she is hardly to be pitied at all.” “Perhaps you are right,” Frances said. The doctor’s philosophy appealed to her. She liked the simple fashion with which he regarded life. She would not question him further concerning the Dermot family, for some sense of loyalty restrained her. But when he was gone, she pondered over the matter. Why did they stay in a place that contained such painful associations for them? She had Arthur’s word for it that he had made a success of the farm, and every indication pointed to the fact. But it had been an uphill fight. Why had he chosen to make it there? Midday came, and with it Lucy and Nell to take her back to the house. It was no great distance across the field to the garden, but it taxed her powers somewhat, for the ground was rough. She was glad when they reached the shade of the cedar-tree and she could sit down on the bench beneath it to rest. “You had better not go to the corn-field again,” said Nell.