Meg asked no questions about the occurrence of the night. That something more than usual had taken place she was well assured. But Madeline's reserved manner restrained even this woman, noted for her boldness and curiosity. There was some mystery, she believed, concerning this stranger who had arrived so unexpectedly in Hishu. Did Madeline know anything about him? Had she seen him before? These thoughts puzzled and worried her throughout the day. Often she would pause in the midst of her work and gaze for some time out of the open door.
Most of the day Madeline spent with Donnie. He had awakened feeling much better, and the wheezing cough had disappeared. He soon became quite friendly with the woman sitting by his side, who looked upon him with such big pathetic eyes. Madeline told him simple childish stories, at which he would often clap his hands with delight. When night arrived Donnie was much like his former self. Madeline rejoiced to have the child near her. She knew that Hishu was no place for a boy like this, and her heart ached to think that such a delicate lad should be so far away from his parents' tender care. As the darkness deepened, and Donnie sat in her lap he asked for his mother.
"Why doesn't she tum to me, Malin?" he said. "Why does she 'tay away so long?"
Such a question Madeline could not answer. She endeavoured to soothe him, and gently stroked his curly silken hair. Long after he had fallen asleep she sat by his side and gazed upon the little face. And so the boy was stolen away, too, she thought. Why should an innocent child be made to suffer by reason of cruel, wicked men? She recalled Siwash Bill's vile proposition, and shuddered. She knew something of his persistency, and of the length he would go to carry out his base designs. Money and revenge the man wanted. She was sure of that, and had torn away the lamb from the fold to further his object. What could she do to save the boy? She longed to seize him in her arms, and hurry off into the forest; anywhere would be better than Hishu. But this she realised would be futile. Her face darkened, and her tense hands gripped each other in her lap as she thought of her own fruitless attempts in the past. She could not escape from the Argus-eyed Meg, and what could she do with a little lad in a dreary wilderness, with Siwash Bill and his gang in pursuit? She thought of Norman, and a flush mantled her face. Would not he help her? But why should she go to him? He had kept clear of her; had not even come to inquire after the lad. And yet she felt it was Norman and no one else who had saved her from Siwash Bill. Why did he leave so soon? What was the meaning of his strange behaviour? Was it because he believed her to be—? The words would not come to Madeline's lips. Would Norman think such things of her, of Madeline whom he had known and loved in the happy days of old, which now seemed so far away?
The next day Donnie was well enough to run about the house. Everything interested him, and his cheery laugh caused even Old Meg's face to soften with a new light.
"Donnie," said Madeline that evening, "how would you like to walk to the river with me? I go there sometimes by myself, but would like to have you this time to take care of me."
Donnie clapped his hands with delight, and chatted incessantly while Madeline wrapped a small shawl about his body, and tied a hood, much too large for him, upon his curly head.
Together they soon set off down the trail, Donnie holding Madeline's hand, and plying her with all sorts of questions.
"Will ou take me home some day, Malin?" he asked.