g beyond her power;
and she was sorry not to be able to give her promise.

"I will ask," she whispered, "and now----"

Walter rubbed his eyes. There was the bridge and the ditch. He heard
the ducks cackling from the distance. He saw his mills again. Yes, yes,
there they were. But their name was no longer--what was their name?

The mills were called "Morning Hour" and "Eagle," and they called
out just like other sawmills: "Karre, karre, kra, kra----"

Thereupon Walter went home. We have already seen what awaited him
there.

CHAPTER XIII

The preacher had come and gone. Sentence had been passed and the
penalty paid. But Walter was depressed and despondent. Leentje did
her best to put some animation into him, but in vain. Perhaps it was
because she no longer understood her ward.

Those confidential communications of Walter's were beyond her
comprehension; and often she looked at him as if she doubted his
sanity. From her meagre weekly allowance she saved a few doits,
thinking to gladden Walter's heart with some ginger cakes, which he
had always enjoyed. It was no use: Walter's soul had outgrown ginger
cakes. This discovery caused Leentje bitter pain.

"But, my dear child, be reasonable, and don't worry over such
foolishness. This Fancy, or whatever the creature's name is, has
mocked you; or you have dreamed it all."

"No, no, no, Leentje. It's all true. I know everything she said,
and it's all true."

"But, Walter, that story about your sister--you would have known that
long ago."

"I did know it, but I had forgotten it. I knew everything that Fancy
told me. It had only slipped out of my mind. When she spoke, then it
all came back to me distinctly."

"I will go to those mills some day," said Leentje.

And she did it. After Walter's description she was able to find
the place where that important meeting had taken place. She saw
the timbers, the dirt, the ducks, the meadow--everything was there,
even the ashes,--everything except Fancy and her stories.

Nor could Walter find Fancy now. In vain did he go out walking with
those respectable Halleman boys as often as he was in the way at
home. For hours he would stand on the bridge and listen to the rattling
of the sawmills; but they told him nothing, and Fancy would not return.

"She has too much to do at my mother's court," Walter sighed, and
went home sad and disappointed.

When he looked out the window and saw the beautiful stars twinkling
encou