"I should like to do so, dear," was the reply. "I know your father and mother must be anxious about you. But what will Madeline do without her little boy?"
"Oh, ou will tum, too. Ou must tum, and live right wif me. We have a big, big house. I will let ou sleep in my room, play wif my horse and tin soldiers. Wouldn't ou like to tum?"
"Very much, dearie," and tears stood in Madeline's eyes at the child's innocent prattle.
"Is this your home, Malin?" and the lad looked up inquiringly into her face.
"Why do you ask that, Donnie? Don't you think this is my home?"
"I don't know. But it seems such a funny home. Is dat woman your mother? And where is your daddy?"
A lump came into Madeline's throat, and she pressed Donnie's hand more firmly.
"I haven't any father and mother now, Donnie. But I have a home, far, far away, oh, so beautiful, which I have not seen for a long time."
"Tell me about it, Malin," and the child perched himself upon an old fallen log which stretched itself along the trail.
By this time they had drawn very close to the river, where the bank was steep. All around stood the silent forest of firs and jack pines, with the cold, dark stream drifting noiselessly by. No sense of fear came into Madeline's heart as she obeyed Donnie's behest. So often had she come to this place that it was like an old friend, full of understanding and sympathy.