The same afternoon as Perry was returning from the village with a wagon, Miss Jerusha stopped him at her gate and helped him place in it three trunks which had belonged to Mrs. Ashley. They contained clothing, books and bric-a-brac, Jerusha retaining the furniture until claimed by Mrs. Warfield.

Cast upon the charity of Mr. and Mrs. Merryman, Hilda was heartily accepted, and Miss Flint went from her cottage in the morning and returned to it in the evening, rejoicing that she was at last free from the burden that had oppressed her. So sprightly did she become, in addition to her naturally independent and arbitrary manner that she gave no one reason to suspect that her conscience was troubled by three secrets, one of which in after years she strove vainly to divulge to Hilda.

The bridal company had been entertained at the Courtneys, the Lattingers and several other homes, had seen the places of interest in the neighborhood, had heard the traditions and chronicles, especially that of the spectre that haunted “My Lady’s Manor” and had returned to their homes.

One evening Norah was preparing the evening meal and crooning an Irish melody—to which Hilda, sitting in Erma’s cradle, was listening attentively—and had just placed tea biscuits in the oven when the door opened and Archie came in.

He was comfortably clothed in the suit given him by Mr. Merryman, and without glancing at Norah or Hilda he went directly to the seat in the corner of the hearth which he had occupied the night of the reception.

“It is Archie!” cried Hilda in delight, “he has brought me a mocking bird.”

“No, Archie is ashamed that he could not bring one,” said the wanderer sadly. “He has tried and tried to catch one, but Archie has brought something,” and untying a plaid handkerchief he gave her a dead oriole, a bit of moss, several snail and mussel shells, and other trifles which he had gathered in the woods and streams perhaps miles away.

When Mr. and Mrs. Merryman and their little Erma returned from Dorton and with Hilda sat down to tea in the dining-room, Archie fell asleep in his chair, but awoke to take supper with Norah and Perry; then went to the room over the kitchen which he had previously occupied, and before the sun rose was away upon his aimless wanderings.

Thus the years passed, and in the home of the Merrymans contentment and peace reigned. Hilda was looked upon as the elder daughter of the house and was treated as kindly as though indeed their own. She went daily to the village school and was beloved by teachers and companions.

Although each school day she passed the cottage twice, and the same on Sabbaths to the village church, she never had a glimpse of Jerusha Flint, from which the inference could be rightly drawn that Jerusha had frequent glimpses of her.