Two weeks after that Abram Strong came for his yearly visit to the Eagle House, and became “Father Abram” again.

That season the Eagle House had fewer guests than usual.  Among them was Rose Chester.  Miss Chester came to Lakelands from Atlanta, where she worked in a department store.  This was the first vacation outing of her life.  The wife of the store manager had once spent a summer at the Eagle House.  She had taken a fancy to Rose, and had persuaded her to go there for her three weeks’ holiday.  The manager’s wife gave her a letter to Mrs. Rankin, who gladly received her in her own charge and care.

Miss Chester was not very strong.  She was about twenty, and pale and delicate from an indoor life.  But one week of Lakelands gave her a brightness and spirit that changed her wonderfully.  The time was early September when the Cumberlands are at their greatest beauty.  The mountain foliage was growing brilliant with autumnal colours; one breathed aerial champagne, the nights were deliciously cool, causing one to snuggle cosily under the warm blankets of the Eagle House.

Father Abram and Miss Chester became great friends.  The old miller learned her story from Mrs. Rankin, and his interest went out quickly to the slender lonely girl who was making her own way in the world.

The mountain country was new to Miss Chester.  She had lived many years in the warm, flat town of Atlanta; and the grandeur and variety of the Cumberlands delighted her.  She was determined to enjoy every moment of her stay.  Her little hoard of savings had been estimated so carefully in connection with her expenses that she knew almost to a penny what her very small surplus would be when she returned to work.

Miss Chester was fortunate in gaining Father Abram for a friend and companion.  He knew every road and peak and slope of the mountains near Lakelands.  Through him she became acquainted with the solemn delight of the shadowy, tilted aisles of the pine forests, the dignity of the bare crags, the crystal, tonic mornings, the dreamy, golden afternoons full of mysterious sadness.  So her health improved, and her spirits grew light.  She had a laugh as genial and hearty in its feminine way as the famous laugh of Father Abram.  Both of them were natural optimists; and both knew how to present a serene and cheerful face to the world.

One day Miss Chester learned from one of the guests the history of Father Abram’s lost child.  Quickly she hurried away and found the miller seated on his favourite rustic bench near the chalybeate spring.  He was surprised when his little friend slipped her hand into his, and looked at him with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Father Abram,” she said, “I’m so sorry!  I didn’t know until to-day about your little daughter.  You will find her yet some day—­ Oh, I hope you will.”

The miller looked down at her with his strong, ready smile.

“Thank you, Miss Rose,” he said, in his usual cheery tones.  “But I do not expect to find Aglaia.  For a few years I hoped that she had been stolen by vagrants, and that she still lived; but I have lost that hope.  I believe that she was drowned.”