“Not if I am needed.  I have a few minutes.  Can you be telling me briefly?”

“I am the Limberlost girl to whom your wife gave the dress for Commencement last spring, and both of you sent lovely gifts.  There is a reason, a very good reason, why I must be hidden for a time, and I came straight to you—­as if I had a right.”

“You have!” answered Freckles.  “Any boy or girl who ever suffered one pang in the Limberlost has a claim to the best drop of blood in my heart.  You needn’t be telling me anything more.  The Angel is at our cottage on Mackinac.  You shall tell her and play with the babies while you want shelter.  This way!”

They breakfasted in a luxurious car, talked over the swamp, the work of the Bird Woman; Elnora told of her nature lectures in the schools, and soon they were good friends.  In the evening they left the train at Mackinaw City and crossed the Straits by boat.  Sheets of white moonlight flooded the water and paved a molten path across the breast of it straight to the face of the moon.

The island lay a dark spot on the silver surface, its tall trees sharply outlined on the summit, and a million lights blinked around the shore.  The night guns boomed from the white fort and a dark sentinel paced the ramparts above the little city tucked down close to the water.  A great tenor summering in the north came out on the upper deck of the big boat, and baring his head, faced the moon and sang:  “Oh, the moon shines bright on my old Kentucky home!” Elnora thought of the Limberlost, of Philip, and her mother, and almost choked with the sobs that would arise in her throat.  On the dock a woman of exquisite beauty swept into the arms of Terence O’More.

“Oh, Freckles!” she cried.  “You’ve been gone a month!”

“Four days, Angel, only four days by the clock,” remonstrated Freckles.  “Where are the children?”

“Asleep!  Thank goodness!  I’m worn to a thread.  I never saw such inventive, active children.  I can’t keep track of them!”

“I have brought you help,” said Freckles.  “Here is the Limberlost girl in whom the Bird Woman is interested.  Miss Comstock needs a rest before beginning her school work for next year, so she came to us.”

“You dear thing!  How good of you!” cried the Angel.  “We shall be so happy to have you!”

In her room that night, in a beautiful cottage furnished with every luxury, Elnora lifted a tired face to the Angel.

“Of course, you understand there is something back of this?” she said.  “I must tell you.”

“Yes,” agreed the Angel.  “Tell me!  If you get it out of your system, you will stand a better chance of sleeping.”

Elnora stood brushing the copper-bright masses of her hair as she talked.  When she finished the Angel was almost hysterical.