"Welcome to our camp," she said. "I have often wondered why you never came over this way. My parents will be so glad to see you. You must come right up to the house and have a cup of tea." But Miss Carroway seated herself on the grass beside Constance, instead. "I came over to see _you_," she said quietly, "just you alone. I had tea before I started. I want to talk about one or two things a little, an' mebbe to give you some advice." Constance smiled and looked down at the mushrooms on the grass. "About those, you mean," she said. "Well, I suppose I need it. I find I know less than I thought I did in the beginning." Miss Carroway shook her head. "No," she admitted; "I've give up that question. I guess the books know more than I do. You ain't dead yet, an' if they was pizen you would 'a' been by this time. It's somethin' else I want to talk about--somethin' that's made a good many people unhappy, includin' me. That was a long time ago, but I s'pose I ain't quite got over it yet." A good deal of the September afternoon slipped away as the two women talked there in the sunshine by the Au Sable Falls. When at last Miss Carroway rose to go, Constance rose, too, and, taking her hand, kissed the old lady on the cheek. "You are sweet and good," she said, "and I wish I could do as much for you as you have done, and are willing to do for me. If I have not confided in you, it is only because I cannot--to-day. But I shall tell you all that there is to tell as soon--almost as soon--as I tell any one. It may be to-morrow, and I promise you that there shall be no unhappiness that I can help." "Things never can be set straight too soon," said the old lady. "I've had a long time to think of that." Miss Deane's eyes grew moist. "Oh, I thank you for telling me your story!" she said. "It is beautiful, and you have lived a noble life." The shadows had grown deeper in the woods as Miss Carroway followed a path back to the lake, and so around to the Lodge. The sun had vanished from the tree tops, and some of the light and reflex of youth had faded from the old lady's face. Perhaps she was a little weary with her walk, and it may be a little disappointed at what she had heard, or rather what she had not heard, in her talk with Constance Deane. At the end of the lake she followed the path through the little birch grove and came upon Frank Weatherby, where he mused, on the stone seat. Miss Carroway paused as he rose and greeted her. "I just come from a good walk," she said peacefully. "I've been over to the Deanes' camp. It's a pretty place." Frank nodded. "I suppose you saw the family," he said. "No; only Miss Deane. She was studyin' tudstools, but I guess they wa'n't pizen. I guess she knows 'em." Frank made no comment on this remark, and the old lady looked out on the lake a moment and added, as one reflecting aloud on a matter quite apart from the subject in hand: