n.o.body had seen Clematis. n.o.body knew anything about her.

Mrs. Alder looked everywhere at home.

Her bag and box were neatly packed and ready, but there was no sign of the little girl who owned them.

Many people were looking for Clematis that afternoon.

Ned Atkinson ran everywhere, telling people about the lost girl.

They looked in the woods and in the fields. They looked all along the river banks.

When night came, they were still hunting, but had found no trace of Clematis.

"I can't sleep a wink tonight," said Mrs. Alder. "I think the child must be crazy, to run off like that."

"I don't feel much like sleep myself," Mr. Alder replied.

"I wonder where she can be hiding."

The next morning many people came to ask if Clematis had been found.

"No, no, no. There isn't a sign of her anywhere. I don't know what we shall do."

Mrs. Alder made the same answer to every one.

During the day people still looked about in new places.

Afternoon came again, but no Clematis came with it.

Towards evening, Mr. Brooks was sitting in his chair by his little cottage, reading a book.

The sun was sinking behind the mountains in the west.

The birds were singing their evening songs, in the trees by the brook.

All was quiet and peaceful.

As he sat there, Mr. Brooks heard steps on the path.

He looked down and saw a little girl. In her arms was a cat, with a black spot over one eye.

The child stumbled as she walked. She seemed ready to drop, she was so tired.

"Why, little girl, where did you come from?" cried Mr. Brooks.

He got up and went down to meet her.

Then she raised her pale face, and he saw that it was Clematis. Her face and hands were soiled; her hair was tangled; her dress was dusty and torn.

"Oh, little maid," he said. "Did you walk way over here to see me?"

"Yes," said Clematis, faintly. "I said I would, and I did."

"Dear child, you are worn out. Come in and rest."

He took her into the little house, and got a basin and water.

"There, dear, wash your face and hands. You will feel better.

"Now sit down, Clematis," said Mr. Brooks, when she had finished washing her face and hands, "and we will have a bite to eat."

He cut a slice of bread. On this he spread some b.u.t.ter, and sprinkled a little sugar.

Clematis watched him with hungry eyes.

"Dear child, you must be starved," he said, as she took a great bite.

"Wouldn't you be hungry if you hadn't had any breakfast or dinner?"

Clematis took another big bite.

"No breakfast? No dinner? Where have you been all day?"

"I stayed in the little house where they boil the sap."

The bread was nearly gone now.

"Did you run away this morning?"

Mr. Brooks was cutting another slice.

"No, I stayed there last night."

"You stayed there all last night? Child! I should think you would have frozen. There was frost last night."

"I did freeze," said Clematis, beginning on the second slice.

Mr. Brooks looked at her a moment in silence, while she ate.

"I never heard anything to beat that," he said at last, as he reached once more for the bread.

"Mrs. Alder will be very anxious."

Clematis shook her head.

"No she won't. She'll be glad I'm gone."

Mr. Brooks smiled.