course we can go, daddy, for what is college and money and friends
compared with your health? Gladly will I give them up for you. We shall
have a wonderful time there in the hills--just you and mother and I."

So they had come. Then it was early in the spring and the country was
beginning to show green. Into the little old farmhouse under the hill they
moved. Of course there were no electric lights, and no telephones, and no
faucets out of which the water could be drawn. But there were the quaint
old candle holders on the big mantels; there was the fireplace so large
that a log could be drawn into it; there was a well in the yard with water
as cold as ice. And outside the home--oh, there were the most wonderful
things to see. The trailing arbutus trailed everywhere; the lady slippers
grew even in the front dooryard. The old trees in the yard were soon
filled with nesting birds; the apple and pear trees in bloom were a sight
never to be forgotten.

So the days fled by and the little family under the hill were so happy to
see the color coming back to the face of the sick one and the smile once
more on his face. Katherine loved it all--the home--the flowers--the
mountains and even the quiet of the little hamlet.

Then the summer had come and with it the stream of visitors who come
every year to the New Hampshire mountains. Within a short distance of the
home were large hotels, and the guests soon learned of the cool water in
the well in front of the house; of the father who was such a pleasant
companion; of the pretty girl who could sing, and climb, and play so well.
So there had been picnics, and parties, and auto rides, and the summer had
fled.

And when the people had gone, there were the wonderful colors in the
trees, the gorgeous sunsets in the sky, the fun of the harvest time and
still the life in the country was full of wonder and satisfaction.

But now--oh, now the days had begun to grow cold, the trees were bare, the
birds had flown to the south, and her friends had all gone away. Here and
there a family was left in the farmhouses that dotted the little, winding
road but none of them were people for whom she cared. And so as the days
had come and gone, there had crept into the heart of the girl a loneliness
that would not be forced down, a longing that she could not stifle, a
dissatisfaction that grew with the days.

How could she pass the long winter nights that were ahead? How could she
stay away from the