down to meet her.

Then she raised her pale face, and he saw that it was Clematis. Her
face and hands were soiled; her hair was tangled; her dress was
dusty and torn.

"Oh, little maid," he said. "Did you walk way over here to see me?"

"Yes," said Clematis, faintly. "I said I would, and I did."

"Dear child, you are worn out. Come in and rest."

He took her into the little house, and got a basin and water.

"There, dear, wash your face and hands. You will feel better.

"Now sit down, Clematis," said Mr. Brooks, when she had finished
washing her face and hands, "and we will have a bite to eat."

He cut a slice of bread. On this he spread some butter, and
sprinkled a little sugar.

Clematis watched him with hungry eyes.

"Dear child, you must be starved," he said, as she took a great
bite.

"Wouldn't you be hungry if you hadn't had any breakfast or dinner?"

Clematis took another big bite.

"No breakfast? No dinner? Where have you been all day?"

"I stayed in the little house where they boil the sap."

The bread was nearly gone now.

"Did you run away this morning?"

Mr. Brooks was cutting another slice.

"No, I stayed there last night."

"You stayed there all last night? Child! I should think you would
have frozen. There was frost last night."

"I did freeze," said Clematis, beginning on the second slice.

Mr. Brooks looked at her a moment in silence, while she ate.

"I never heard anything to beat that," he said at last, as he
reached once more for the bread.

"Mrs. Alder will be very anxious."

Clematis shook her head.

"No she won't. She'll be glad I'm gone."

Mr. Brooks smiled.

"Well, Mr. Alder will, anyway. As soon as you have eaten a few
loaves of bread, I'll get Mr. Giles's horse. They will be glad
enough to see you again."

Clematis put down her bread. Her lips quivered, and her eyes filled
with tears.

"Don't you want me?" she said.

"My dear child, what do you mean?"

"You said you wished you had a little girl."

"Did I say that?"

"Yes, you said you wished you had a little girl, and you can have
me. Nobody wants me, except you.

"I can make my bed, and wash dishes, and I don't say slang words any
more, and I can weed everything in your garden."

[Illustration: In Grandfather's house]

Poor Clematis, she had never said so much at one time in her life.

Then she burst into tears. She was tired, and worn, and faint.

Mr. Brooks took her into his lap. He hardly