all others failed,
and Mary-Clare resorted to it now. Swaying back and forth she told the
story of the haunt-wind.

"It was a wonderful wind, Noreen, quite magical. It came from between
the south and the east--a wild little wind that ran away and did
things on its own account; but it was a good little wind for all that
foolish people said about it. It took hold of the bell rope in the
belfry, and swung out and out; it swung far, and then it dropped and
fluttered about quite dizzily."

"Touching Jan-an?" Noreen suggested sleepily.

"Jan-an, of course. Making her beautiful and laughing. Waking her from
her sad dream, poor Jan-an, and giving her strength to do really
splendid things."

"I love the wild wind!" Noreen pressed closer. "I'm not afraid of it.
And it found Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter?"

"To be sure. It made Aunt Polly seem as grand and big as she really
is--only blind folks cannot see--and it made all the blind folks _see
her_ for a minute. And it made Uncle Peter--no; it left Uncle Peter as
he is!"

"I like that"--drowsily--"and it made us see the man that went to the
inn?" Noreen lifted her head, suddenly alert.

"What made you think of him, Noreen?" Mary-Clare stopped swaying to
and fro.

"I don't know, Motherly. Only it was funny how he just came and then
the haunt-wind came and Jan-an says she thinks he _isn't_. Really we
only think we see him."

"Well, perhaps that's true, childie. He's something good, I hope. Now
shut your eyes like a dearie, and Mother will rock and sing."

Mary-Clare fixed her eyes on her child's face, but she was seeing
another. The face of a man whose glance had held hers for a strange
moment. She had been conscious, since, of this man's presence; his
name was familiar--she could not forget him, though there was no
reason for her to remember him except that he was new; a something
different in her dull days.

But Noreen, eyes obediently closed, was pleading in the strange,
foolish jargon of her rare moments of relaxation:

"You lit and lock, Motherly, and I'll luck my lum, just for to-night,
and lall aleep."

"All right, beloved; you may, just for to-night, suck the little
thumb, and fall asleep while Mother rocks."

After a few moments more Noreen was asleep and Mary-Clare carried her
to an inner room and put her on her bed. She paused to look at the
small sleeping face; she noted the baby outlines that always were so
strongly marked when Noreen was unconscious; it