riests and doctors; and, maybe, now and then, for
men who could not live without them, like Master Hugh. She, Angelique,
had never read a book in all her life. She never meant to do so. She
had not even learned a single letter printed in their foolish pages.
Not she. Yet was not she a most excellent cook and seamstress? Was
there any cabin in all that northland as tidy as that she ruled?
Would matters have been the better had she bothered her poor brain
with books? She knew her duty and she did it. What more could mortal?

This argument had been early in the day. A day on which the master had
gone away to the mainland and the house-mistress had improved by
giving the house an extra cleaning. To escape the soapsuds and the
loneliness, Margot had, also, gone, alone and unquestioned; taking
with her a luncheon of brown bread and cold fowl, her book and
microscope. Angelique had watched the little canoe push off from
shore, without regret, since now she could work unhindered at
clearing the room of the "rubbishy specimen" which the others had
brought in to mess the place.

Now, at supper time, perfect order reigned, and perfect quiet, as
well; save for the purring of Meroude upon the hearth and the
simmering of the kettle. Angelique wiped her face with her apron.

"The great heat! and May but young yet. It means trouble. I wish----"

Suddenly, the cat waked from her sleep and with a sharp meouw leaped
to her mistress' shoulder; who screamed, dropped the ladle, splashed
the stew, and boxed the animal's ears--all within a few seconds. Her
nerves were already tingling from the electricity in the air, and her
anxiety returned with such force that, again swinging the crane around
away from the fire, she hurried to the beach.

To one so weatherwise the unusual heat, the leaden sky, and the
intense hush were ominous. There was not a breath of wind stirring,
apparently, yet the surface of the lake was already dotted by tiny
white-caps, racing and chasing shoreward, like live creatures at play.
Not many times, even in her long life in that solitude, had Angelique
Ricord seen just that curious coloring of cloud and water, and she
recalled these with a shudder. The child she loved was strong and
skilful, but what would that avail? Her thin face darkened, its
features sharpened, and making a trumpet of her hands, she put all her
force into a long, terrified halloo.

"Ah-ho-a-ah! Margot--Mar-g-o-t--MARGOT!"

Something clutched h