id, as he
handed over a bit of folded paper.

Simeon took it gingerly and examined it.

It was a leaf torn apparently from a note book. It was folded three
times, and bore on the outside the superscription "To whom it may
concern." The handwriting was peculiar, irregular, and not very
legible. But as near as it could be deciphered, the note ran thus:--

Now that the time has come when I must give David back to the world, I
have set out for that purpose.

But I am ill--very ill, and should Death have swifter feet than I, I
must leave my task for others to complete. Deal gently with him. He
knows only that which is good and beautiful. He knows nothing of sin
nor evil.

Then followed the signature--a thing of scrawls and flourishes that
conveyed no sort of meaning to Simeon Holly's puzzled eyes.

"Well?" prompted Higgins expectantly.

Simeon Holly shook his head.

"I can make little of it. It certainly is a most remarkable note."

"Could you read the name?"

"No."

"Well, I couldn't. Neither could half a dozen others that's seen it.
But where's the boy? Mebbe his note'll talk sense."

"I'll go find him," volunteered Larson. "He must be somewheres 'round."

But David was very evidently not "somewheres 'round." At least he was
not in the barn, the shed, the kitchen bedroom, nor anywhere else that
Larson looked; and the man was just coming back with a crestfallen,
perplexed frown, when Mrs. Holly hurried out on to the porch.

"Mr. Higgins," she cried, in obvious excitement, "your wife has just
telephoned that her sister Mollie has just telephoned HER that that
little tramp boy with the violin is at her house."

"At Mollie's!" exclaimed Higgins. "Why, that's a mile or more from
here."

"So that's where he is!" interposed Larson, hurrying forward. "Doggone
the little rascal! He must 'a' slipped away while we was eatin'
breakfast."

"Yes. But, Simeon,--Mr. Higgins,--we hadn't ought to let him go like
that," appealed Mrs. Holly tremulously. "Your wife said Mollie said she
found him crying at the crossroads, because he didn't know which way to
take. He said he was going back home. He means to that wretched cabin
on the mountain, you know; and we can't let him do that alone--a child
like that!"

"Where is he now?" demanded Higgins.

"In Mollie's kitchen eating bread and milk; but she said she had an
awful time getting him to eat. And she wants to know what to do with
him. That's why she telephoned your