* * * * *

Miss Shellington was deeply surprised when the deputy met her with an open letter in his hand, and said: 

“The court has called me away, Ma’m.  I guess your troubles are all over.”

For a moment Ann did not comprehend the meaning of his words.  Then she laid a trembling hand on his arm and faltered: 

“Possibly they’ll send someone else; but I’d much rather you’d stay.  We are—­we are used to you.”

“Thanks, Ma’m; but no one else won’t come—­the case has been called off.”

Increasing excitement reddened Miss Shellington’s cheeks.

“Oh, do you think they are going to leave them here with us?”

The deputy buttoned his coat and put on his hat.

“I’m sure I don’t know; but I’d almost think so, or I wouldn’t have got this order.”  He tapped his breast-pocket and made as if to go; but he faced the other once more instead, with slightly rising color.  “You still have your doctor’s orders, Miss, that nobody can take the boy away for sometime; so don’t worry.  And, Ma’m,” the red in his face deepened, “you ain’t prayed all these weeks for nothing.  I ain’t much on praying myself; but I’ve got a lot of faith in a pretty, good young lady when she does it.  Goodby, Ma’m.”

As Ann bade the officer farewell, the relief from haunting fears and racking possibilities almost overcame her.  She went back to Floyd, resolutely holding up under the strain.  She told him that the stranger had gone; but that, as she had received no communication, she did not know the next steps that would be taken.

It was nearly nine o’clock when Ann tapped softly upon Fledra’s door.  There had been no sign of life from the blue room that morning; for Miss Shellington had given orders that Fledra be allowed to sleep if she so wished.  Now, however, she wanted the girl to come to the dining-room to welcome Flukey to his first meal at the table and to learn that the deputy had been withdrawn.  When no voice answered her knock, Ann turned the handle of the door and peeped in.  Fledra’s bed was open, and looked as if its occupant had just got up.  Miss Shellington passed through to the bathroom, and called.  She ran back hastily to the bed and put her hand upon it.  The sheets were cold, while the pillow showed only a faint impression where Fledra’s dark head had rested.  Miss Shellington paused and glanced about, fright taking the place of expectancy on her face.  She hurried to the open window and looked out.  Then she rushed to the kitchen and questioned the servants.  None of them had seen Fledra, all were earnestly certain that the girl had not been about the house during the morning.  Ann thought of Floyd, and for the nonce her fears were forced aside.  In spite of her anxiety, she had a smile on her lips as she entered the breakfast-room and took her seat opposite the boy.

“We’ll have to eat without Sister this morning,” she said gently to the convalescent.  “She’s a tired little girl.”