g!"

She waited till Jan minded her.

"You came to me last night in a dream--yes, that was it. You came
to me and I says to you like this: 'Are you out for a walk, Jan of
the Ashdales?' 'Yes,' says you, 'but now I'm Jan of the Vale of
Longings.' 'Then, well met,' says I. 'There's where I have lived
all my life.'"

Whereupon she disappeared again, and Jan, startled by her strange
words, did not immediately resume his work, but stood pondering. In
a moment or two she was there again.

"I remember now what brought me here," she told him. "I wanted to
show you my stars."

On her arm was a small covered basket bound with cord, and while
she tugged and pulled at a knot, to loosen it, she chattered like a
magpie.

"They are real stars, these. When one lives in the Vale of Longings
one isn't satisfied with the things of earth; then one is compelled
to go out and look for stars. There is no other choice. Now you,
too, will have to go in search of them."

"No, no, Ingeborg!" returned Jan. "I'll confine my search to what
is to be found on this earth."

"For goodness sake hush!" cried the woman. "You don't suppose I'm
such a fool as to go ahunting for those which remain in the
heavens, do you? I only seek the kind that have fallen. I've got
some sense, I guess!"

She opened her basket which was filled with a variety of stars she
had evidently picked up at the manors. There were tin stars and
glass stars and paper stars--ornaments from Christmas trees and
confectionery.

"They are real stars fallen from the sky," she declared. "You are
the only person I've shown them to. I'll let you have a couple
whenever you need them."

"Thanks, Ingeborg," said Jan. "When the time comes that I shall
have need of stars--which may be right soon--I don't think I'll ask
you for them."

Then at last Mad Ingeborg left.

It was some little time, however, before Jan went back to his
threshing. To him this, too, was a finger-pointing. Not that a
crack-brained person like Ingeborg could know anything of Glory
Goldie's movements; but she was one of the kind who sensed it in
the air when something extraordinary was going to happen. She could
see and hear things of which wise folk never had an inkling.

WAITING

Engineer Boraeus of Borg was in the habit of strolling down to the
pier mornings to meet the steamer. He had only a short distance to
go, through his beautiful pine grove, and there was always some one
on the boat with whom h