g the fruits
of her painful effort to Mrs. Gray.

"You are right in believing David to be the best possible confidant,"
sighed the old lady as she returned the letter and telegraphic message
to Grace. "We can rely on him absolutely."

"I must go now. It is after nine o'clock. I will hurry to the nearest
drug store for a special delivery stamp and mail the letter at once. I
wish I might stay with you longer, but I feel as though I ought to go
home. You don't mind if I tell Mother and Father? It is within their
right to know."

"Of course it is," readily agreed Mrs. Gray. "I only deferred telling
them until I had talked with you, Grace. I can't begin to tell you how
much having you here has comforted me. I feel a trifle more cheerful
already. Perhaps, after all, we have been running out to meet calamity.
To-morrow may bring us word that Tom is safe and well." Rising from her
chair, Mrs. Gray embraced Grace tenderly.

"I hope so." Forcing herself to smile encouragingly down at the wan
little figure beside her, Grace bent and kissed the old lady's cheek.
For a moment the two clung together, their mutual devotion deepened by
their common sorrow. Gently disengaging herself from Mrs. Gray's arms,
Grace donned her hat and coat and, with a last fond word of cheer,
soberly sought the door and stepped out into the starlit night.

Alone with her sorrow, her late attempt at cheerfulness fell away from
her like a cloak. Deep dejection settled down upon her as she walked
down Chapel Hill toward home. The very beauty of the fragrant, starry
night hurt her. She wondered if those some far-off stars, twinkling so
remotely aloft, held the knowledge of Tom Gray for which she mournfully
yearned. Why had this dreadful uncertainty intruded itself into the very
heart of her Golden Summer? Had she boasted of her happiness only to see
it snatched rudely from her life? Suppose Tom were never to return?
Suppose even the knowledge of his fate were to be denied her? Over and
over again she had read in the newspapers of the strange disappearances
of persons, the mystery of which defied solution. The horror of her
gloomy apprehensions sent a chill to her heart that caused it for an
instant to stand still, or so it seemed to her.

"I mustn't think of such frightful things," she breathed. "Tom is all
right. I must make myself believe it. Now is the time to be brave; to go
on steadily without faltering. Tom will come back to me. Wherever he is
or w