e by the
fire, near which stood the kettle and the newly-made damper. The child,
with some show of hesitation, came to him, and he caught and placed her
on his knee. The moon had not yet risen, and the shadows cast by the
flickering fire seemed weird and monstrous. The wicked wish to frighten
this helpless creature came to Maurice Frere.

"There was once," said he, "a Castle in an old wood, and in this Castle
there lived an Ogre, with great goggle eyes."

"You silly man!" said Sylvia, struggling to be free. "You are trying to
frighten me!"

"And this Ogre lived on the bones of little girls. One day a little girl
was travelling the wood, and she heard the Ogre coming. 'Haw! haw! Haw!
haw!'"

"Mr. Frere, let me down!"

"She was terribly frightened, and she ran, and ran, and ran, until all
of a sudden she saw--"

A piercing scream burst from his companion. "Oh! oh! What's that?" she
cried, and clung to her persecutor.

Beyond the fire stood the figure of a man. He staggered forward, and
then, falling on his knees, stretched out his hands, and hoarsely
articulated one word--"Food." It was Rufus Dawes.

The sound of a human voice broke the spell of terror that was on the
child, and as the glow from the fire fell upon the tattered yellow
garments, she guessed at once the whole story. Not so Maurice Frere. He
saw before him a new danger, a new mouth to share the scanty provision,
and snatching a brand from the fire he kept the convict at bay. But
Rufus Dawes, glaring round with wolfish eyes, caught sight of the damper
resting against the iron kettle, and made a clutch at it. Frere dashed
the brand in his face. "Stand back!" he cried. "We have no food to
spare!"

The convict uttered a savage cry, and raising the iron gad, plunged
forward desperately to attack this new enemy; but, quick as thought, the
child glided past Frere, and, snatching the loaf, placed it in the hands
of the starving man, with "Here, poor prisoner, eat!" and then, turning
to Frere, she cast upon him a glance so full of horror, indignation, and
surprise, that the man blushed and threw down the brand.

As for Rufus Dawes, the sudden apparition of this golden-haired girl
seemed to have transformed him. Allowing the loaf to slip through his
fingers, he gazed with haggard eyes at the retreating figure of the
child, and as it vanished into the darkness outside the circle of
firelight, the unhappy man sank his face upon his blackened, horny
hands, a