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ISTRESS CONDIT entered the kitchen one stormy day toward the end of March to find Charity crouched beside the fire weeping bitterly.

"Why, my child!' shechild!" she [sic] exclaimed, hurrying to her to draw her into her motherly embrace. "What be the matter?"

"Hitty!" sobbed Charity. "Hitty is gone!"

"Gone!" repeated Mistress Nancy, who had come running down the stairs at that moment.

"Gone!" echoed Mistress Condit. "What meanst thou, Cherry?"

Charity held out a crumpled note. "The Indian brought this," she explained brokenly. "He did not want Hitty to go with him—he was setting forth to Newark; but she would go, Mother!"

"The madcap!" ejaculated Mistress Condit; but to the others' amazement she said it resignedly. She turned to Mistress Nancy. "The Indian has ever seemed to protect her," she explained. "I believe no harm will come to her while she is with him. I know not why I think this save that it has been so before."

Mistress Nancy picked up the note and read it.