Side by side they moved on into the darkened house. There, with
the dog curled at his feet, Link Ferris lay broad awake until
sunrise.

Early the next afternoon Dorcas decided she stood in need of
brisk, outdoor exercise. Olive came running down the path after
her, eagerly demanding to be taken along. Dorcas with much
sternness bade her go back. She wanted to be alone, unless--But
she refused to admit to herself that there was any "unless."

Olive, grievously disappointed, stood on the steps, watching her
big sister set off up the road. She saw Dorcas take the righthand
turn at the fork. The baby's face cleared. Now she knew in which
direction Dorcas was going. That fork led to the Glen. And the
Glen was a favorite Sunday afternoon ramble for Link and Chum.
Olive knew that, because she and Dorcas more than once had
walked thither to meet them.

Olive was pleasantly forgetful of her parents' positive command
that she refrain from walking alone on the motor-infested Sunday
roads. She set off at a fast jog trot over the nearby hill, on
whose other side ran the Glen road.

Link Ferris, with Chum at his heels, was tramping moodily toward
the Glen. As he turned into the road he paused in his sullen
walk. There, strolling unconcernedly, some yards in front of him,
was a tall girl in white. Her back was toward him. Yet he would
have recognized her at a hundred times the distance. Chum knew
her, too, for he wagged his tail and started at a faster trot to