fashioned door, which opened across
its middle, and to effect an entrance the caller would have had to force
the bolts of the lower half. The valet regarded the Californian with
suspicion that, as the latter admitted, was not ill-founded; and he had
not forgotten the feel of the stranger's boot-toe on the night of the
accident. So he kept a safe barricade of the premises, and Frederic also
went away unsatisfied.

For several days these visits were repeated, with similar results; but
when Sunday came round and she had daylight for her purpose, Amy again
hurried to Fairacres.

"I'll see him this time, if I have to climb over Marshall's objecting
shoulders," she merrily cried to Cleena, as she departed.

But when she reached the old homestead she found it desolate. The light
snow which had fallen overnight lay everywhere undisturbed. No paths had
been cleared nor entrances swept. The windows were closed and shuttered
as Amy never had seen them. Even the stables were shut up and deserted;
and after a half hour of vain efforts to arouse somebody, the
disappointed girl returned to "Charity House."

"Troth, ye went away like a feather, an' you come home like a log.
What's happened, me colleen?"

"He's gone. I can't see him. I can't tell him. Oh, I'm so sorry, so
sorry!"

To comfort her, Uncle Frederic paid a visit to Dr. Wise, and came back
with news that was not very satisfactory. Without consulting the
physician, Mr. Wingate had suddenly decided to go south for the winter.
Marshall had attended to everything. The horses and cattle had been sent
from Fairacres to one of the outlying farms belonging to the estate.
There was no reference to future return, and Mr. Metcalf had been
instructed to settle all accounts. Beyond this there was no mention of
anybody, and no address was left except that of the mill owner's city
bankers, who would forward any necessary papers. Mr. Wingate had gone
away for absolute rest, and wished not to hear from Ardsley unless under
extreme necessity.

So Amy's dream of a reunited family, of that peace and happiness which
should exist between Fairacres and "Charity House," came to an end. But
other hopes and plans took its place, and she returned to her mill work
on the Monday, too busy and eager to spend time in useless regret.

"The best thing about life," observed this wise young person to her
Uncle Frederic, "is that it has to keep right on. There's so much to do,
and the days are so shor