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 "This is a shred of the blanket which we supposed that she had worn away, over her shoulders," she said.

"I found it hanging to a shingle on the roof," said Mr. Stone. "I think that she climbed up here, stayed till it got dark, and then came down to hurry on her way."

"Where can the poor, misguided girl have gone?"

"Well, that is a mystery; and things begin to look serious, Susan. It is my belief that she is not within the limits of the village."

"Perhaps she has made way with herself," suggested the wife, shuddering, as she spoke.

"I do not think that," was the response. "Nattie would not, lightly, harm herself. I wish I could feel as well assured that she has not come to harm."

Mr. Stone spoke these words in a troubled voice.

"What are you going to do next?" asked his