The finger marks upon the doors By none of us are made; We never leave the blinds unclosed, To let the curtains fade; The ink we never spill; the boots That lying round you see Are not our boots--they all belong To Mr. Nobody. A DAUGHTER OF THE FOREST By Evelyn Raymond CHAPTER IV The Stranger’s Name SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Brought up in the forests of northern Maine, and seeing few persons excepting her uncle and Angelique, the Indian housekeeper, Margot Romeyn knows little of life beyond the deep hemlocks. Naturally observant, she is encouraged in her out-of-door studies by her uncle, at one time a college professor. The cyclone from which they barely escape with their lives appeals to her only as an interesting phenomenon. Later in the same day, through her woodland instinct, she and her uncle are enabled to save the life of Adrian Wadislaw, a youth who, lost and almost overcome with hunger, has been wandering in the neighboring forest. Thrusting back the hair that had fallen over her eyes, Margot sprang up and stared at the floundering mass of legs, arms, and wings upon the wide lounge--a battle to the death, it seemed. Then she caught the assailant in her strong hands and flung him aside, while her laughter rang out in a way to make the stranger also stare, believing she had gone crazy with sudden fear. But his terror had restored his strength most marvelously, for he, too, leaped to his feet and retreated to the furthest corner of the room, whence he regarded the scene with dilated eyes. “Why--why--it’s nobody, nothing, but dear old Tom!” “It’s an eagle! The first--” “Of course he’s an eagle. Aren’t you, dear? The most splendid bird in Maine, or maybe Canada. The wisest, the most loving, the-- Oh! You big, blundering, precious thing! Scaring people like that. You should be more civil, sir.” “Is--is--he tame?” “Tame as Angelique’s pet chicken. But mischievous. He wouldn’t hurt you for anything.” “Humph! He would have killed me if I hadn’t waked and yelled.” “Well, you did that surely. You feel better, don’t you?” “I wish you’d put him outdoors, or shut him up where he belongs. I want to sit down.” “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t,” she answered, pushing a chair toward him. “Where did you get it--that creature?” “Uncle found him when he was ever so young. Somebody or something, a hunter or some other bird, had hurt his wing and one foot. Eagles can be injured by the least little blow upon their wings, you know.” “No. I know nothing about them--yet. But I shall, some day.” “Oh! I hope so. They’re delightful to study. Tom is very large, we think. He’s nearly four feet tall, and his wings--Spread your wings, sir! Spread!”