This argument had been early in the day--a day on which the master had gone away to the mainland and the house mistress had improved by giving the house an extra cleaning. To escape the soapsuds and the loneliness, Margot had also gone, alone and unquestioned; taking with her a luncheon of brown bread and cold fowl, her book and microscope. Angelique had watched the little canoe push off from the shore, without regret, since now she could work unhindered at clearing the room of the “rubbishy specimens” which the others had brought in to mess the place. Now, at supper time, perfect order reigned, and perfect quiet, as well; save for the purring of Meroude upon the hearth and the simmering of the kettle. Angelique wiped her face with her apron. “The great heat, and May but young yet. It means trouble. I wish--” Suddenly the cat waked from her sleep, and, with a sharp “meouw,” leaped to her mistress’s shoulder; who screamed, dropped the ladle, splashed the stew, and boxed the animal’s ears--all within a few seconds. Her nerves were already tingling from the electricity in the air, and her anxiety returned with such force that, again swinging the crane around away from the fire, she hurried to the beach. To one so weather-wise, the unusual heat, the leaden sky, and the intense hush were ominous. There was not a breath of wind stirring, apparently, yet the surface of the lake was already dotted by tiny white-caps, racing and chasing shoreward, like live creatures at play. Not many times, even in her long life in that solitude, had Angelique Ricord seen just that curious coloring of cloud and water, and she recalled these with a shudder. The child she loved was strong and skillful, but what would that avail? Her thin face darkened, its features sharpened, and, making a trumpet of her hands, she put all her force into a long, terrified halloo. “Ah-ho-a-ah! Margot--Mar-g-o-t--Margot!” Something clutched her shoulder, and with another frightened scream, the woman turned, to confront her master. “Is the child away?” “Yes, yes; I know not where.” “Since when?” “It seems but an hour, maybe two--three--and she was here, laughing, singing, all as ever. Though it was before the mid-day, and she went in her canoe, still singing.” “Which way?”