hat heap of white.

"Oh, if she is only alive!" moaned Tavia. "Why did I not induce her to
go back to the Junction? I saw she was insane--and now!"

A huge stone offered her a pause in the dangerous descent. She stopped
and listened.

Then she called: "Birdie! Birdie!" No answer. "Perhaps she hears and
does not know--that name. Madame Fly-Fly?" she called again, and she
thought the sleeve moved--always that attempt to fly.

Tavia slid down from the rock, trembling in limb and throbbing in
nerves. She had a terrible fear that the girl was either dying or
dead. There with her alone!

On a perfectly flat stone the form lay. Tavia was beside it now. She
stooped and listened.

"Thank the good Lord she is alive!" gasped Tavia fervently. "I
must--lift--her!"

But there was little trouble in turning the light form over, so that
the white face looked up into Tavia's.

"Oh!" sighed the girl. "Where am I? Who are you?" There was a
change--a great change in her manner.

"Oh, I am so glad you are alive!" breathed Tavia. "And how do you
feel?"

"As if something--moved in--my head. Where is mother?"

There was no rambling, she spoke coherently!

"Are you hurt?" pressed Tavia. "If only you can move?"

"I am sure I can," the sufferer replied, at the same time making an
effort to sit up. "I feel better--somehow. How did you come to me? I
had a terrible dream."

"I met you. Do you remember your name?"

The girl did not answer at once. Then she said very slowly: "I am
Mary, but they call me Molly."

"Mary what?"

"Mary Harriwell."

Tavia knew better than to ask more questions just then. She almost
forgot their predicament in the joy of seeing the girl apparently
sane.

"I wonder if you can walk?"

"I am going to try. Just give me your hand--there, that's it," and the
sufferer pulled herself up and stood beside Tavia.

"I wonder might there be a path? I was so alarmed when you fell, that
I did not take time to look for one, I just slid down the rocks. But
to get up would be very different."

"It is--dark, almost. We will have to look--I can't talk--just now. I
have that strange feeling in my head."

"You must not talk. Just follow me, lean on me! Oh, I am sure we will
get up safely; and once upon the road we must find some help!"

Tavia was afraid to look with too much scrutiny into the white face,
afraid she might again see that wild-eyed warning.

Following the mossy way they trudged along. How far away