The four retraced their way over the trail. As they reached a muddy place half way home Holcomb noticed the imprint of Margaret's trim little feet. It was evident to Alice, who had been watching him, that the tracks puzzled the young woodsman. There were four of these dainty tracks instead of two; soon the mystery was cleared as Alice Thayor passed ahead of him and Holcomb saw that Margaret's and her mother's footprint were identical in size. "You seem puzzled," Alice remarked, as Holcomb steadied her along a sunken log. "I was looking where you had stepped, Mrs. Thayor," he confessed. Alice laughed, a low, delicious laugh. "You see," she explained frankly, putting forth her trim boot, "my daughter and I wear the same size." Again Margaret and Holcomb took the lead. Thayor and Alice followed them leisurely, Thayor talking of his purchase of which he had yet only seen a small portion, Alice listening eagerly. During a pause she said carelessly: "It must be frightfully hot in town, Sam. New York is dirty and deserted; I pity those who cannot get away." He stopped and grew enthusiastic again over the rare purity of the air. "We ought to be thankful for _that_," he said, as he filled his lungs with a deep breath. "Think of how many poor devils and delicate women struggling for a living, and little children it would save." "And the other people, too," she ventured boldly. "Poor Dr. Sperry told me he would be lucky if he got out of New York at all this summer. There are some important cases of his, I believe, which may need him at any moment." The mention of the doctor's name would have jarred on Sam at any other time, but this morning he was too happy to care, and Alice, quick to notice it, pressed on: "I do wish he could come up here for a rest. I saw him at the Trevises Thursday; he seemed utterly used up. Do you think he would come if we asked him, Sam? Besides," she added cleverly, "I should like him to see Margaret." Thayor stopped abruptly and looked at his wife with a curious expression. "So should I," he replied with some severity. "I should like him to see that child now, if for nothing more than to have the satisfaction of seeing how much even these few hours in the woods have accomplished, and what a mistake he made when he said the child's lungs needed looking after. Sperry is a surgeon, not a physician--and he only makes himself ridiculous when he tries to be." "I am quite of your opinion, Sam," Alice declared, not daring to contradict her husband--a feeling of infinite rest creeping through her veins as she spoke. "He will then see for himself, I believe, that he was mistaken," continued Thayor in the same positive tone. "Margaret delicate! Nonsense, my dear! By George--his diagnosis was not only brutal, it was ridiculous. Why, Leveridge--"