ed her greatly. Moreover, Aunt Agatha
was not restful; nor would she depart.

Wherefore, with the old habit when the voice of the forest called--when
school and city and travel had palled and tortured--Diane had traveled
feverishly north with Aunt Agatha, and thence to the Adirondack lodge
which had been her hermitage since early childhood and to which, by an
earlier compact, Aunt Agatha might not follow.

She had telegraphed old Roger to meet her with the buckboard. Now, as
they drove up at twilight, Annie, his wife, stood in the cottage
doorway. Beyond among the rustling trees stood the log lodge of Norman
Westfall, far enough away for solitude and near enough, as Aunt Agatha
frequently recalled with comfort, to the cottage of the two old
servants for safety.

The lake stretched away to a dusk-dimmed shore set in a whispering line
of ghostly birches.

"There's wood in the fireplace, dearie!" said old Annie, patting the
girl's shoulder. "It's a wee bit chill yet, for all the summer ought
well be here. And you've not run away to the old lodge to cook and
keep house and play gypsy this many a day!"

"No," said Diane, "I haven't." She spoke of the van and Johnny.

"Dear! Dear!" quavered Annie, raising wrinkled, wondering hands.
"Think of that now! And like you, too! And you grown so like your
father, child, that I can't well keep my eyes off your face. And brown
as a berry from the sun. I've set a bit of a lunch in the great room
yonder, dearie. You'll likely be too tired to-night to be a gypsy."

Old Roger, who had consigned the buckboard and horses to a tall awkward
country lad who had slouched forward from the shadows, hurried off to
light the fire in the lodge.

When Diane entered, the fire was crackling cheerfully in the great
fireplace and dancing in bright waves over the china and glass upon a
table by the fire.

The old room, extending the entire width of the lodge and half its
generous depth, was much as it had been in the days of Norman Westfall.
By the western wall stood the old piano. Uncovered rafters and an
inner wall-lining of logs hinted nothing of the substantial plaster
behind it. It was a great room of homely comfort, subtly akin to the
forest beyond its walls.

It was the old fashioned desk in the corner, however, upon which
Diane's thoughtful gaze rested as she ate her supper. The thought of
it had primarily inspired her coming. Surely the old desk, locked this
many a year