Mollie smiled at her quietly. "Are you afraid of me?" she asked gently.

"Come here, I shall not hurt you."

Suddenly the stranger's dark, sad little face burst into a smile. "I am not afraid," she insisted. "I am never afraid. But is it well with you?"

She spoke English, but with a strange guttural note Mollie had never heard before.

"Why should it not be well with me?" asked Mollie in surprise.

"Because," the wood sprite answered, "you were lost yesterday in the hills."

"How did you know?" Mollie demanded.

"How did I know?" The girl lifted her head proudly. "I know all things that take place in the woods," she replied. "The woods are my home."

Mollie looked thoughtful; then she spoke in a firm voice: "You know for other reasons, as well. You know I was lost because you led me away yesterday."

The girl's brown face crimsoned, her eyes flashed. Then she lifted her head proudly. "I led you nowhere!" she declared. "You would follow me. No one can run as I do, or capture me when they hunt."

"Who are you?" Mollie asked her.

"I am n.o.body," the young girl replied. It seemed to Mollie she spoke sadly. But she dropped down on the steps of the porch and waited until Mollie joined her there.

Mollie put out her own soft, white hand and took the other girl's brown fingers in her own. The hands were slender and long, with hard muscles trained to the work of the woods.

"Well," said Mollie gently, "if I _would_ follow you, perhaps my getting lost was my own fault. But was it quite fair of you to come each morning to our windows, and then fly away again before anyone could see you?"

Mollie was only guessing at this; but it was easy to see her guess had struck home.

Her visitor turned a deeper crimson and dropped her eyes.

"I am sure you meant no harm by your morning calls," continued Mollie smilingly. "But, if you didn't lead me away into the woods, there is one thing I feel very sure of; you did show my friends how to find me."

"Hush, hush!" cried the wood nymph, rising to her feet and looking around in terror, her slender body poised for flight. "Promise me," she pleaded, "that you will not tell you have seen me, nor that I ever came here to you." The girl dropped on her knees at Mollie's feet. "I am an Indian girl," she explained. "I live on Lost Man's Mountain, but I know no one, and no one knows me. Only Naki your guide has seen me. But he, too, has Indian blood. He will not betray me. My name is Eunice. I have no other name."

"But you cannot live alone," Mollie protested.

The Indian girl shook her head without answering. "If I tell you," she implored, "will you promise me by the stars never to betray me? Promise, promise, or I shall disappear and you will see me never again."

"Oh," Mollie answered thoughtlessly, "I promise."

A swift change swept over the Indian girl's face. She leaned confidingly toward Mollie, who realized for the first time what her promise meant.

She was already dying to tell Bab and the other girls of her afternoon's experience, but she vowed to herself to keep the child's secret.

"I do not live alone," Eunice declared. "I have a grandmother, who is an old, old Indian woman. Our hut is far back in the hills. All day I have watched and waited by your cabin, until the others went away. I wanted to see that all was right with you. I trust you with my secret. Now, I must be far away."

"But won't you come again, Eunice?" begged Mollie. "Why not come and see all of us? We are only other girls like you. My sister and her friends have only gone away for a visit to the Lathams'."

Eunice started and shook her black hair. "Latham! You must not speak the name to me!" she cried fiercely. "My grandmother says it is an evil name, and will work harm to me."

Mollie laughed at her. "The name of Latham is nothing to you, Eunice,"

she protested. "But won't you let me thank you for leading my sister to me? You must have been the will-o'-the-wisp with the dark lantern. You must have made the fire, and--and--you must even have put Grace's sweater over my shoulders as I lay asleep. You are my ghost!"

The Indian girl drew herself up proudly, but her dark face turned curiously white. "Yes," she muttered, "I took the red cloak away. My grandmother says that I stole it, and Indians of royal blood do not steal. I am no ghost, I am a princess!" Eunice looked at Mollie with haughty grace.

"I did not know I was stealing," she insisted. "I saw the soft, red thing. I did not think. I love the scarlet colors in the world." She touched the crimson leaves in her hair. "When I found that I had stolen I meant to bring the cloak back. Then I saw you asleep in the woods. You looked so cold and white that I put the cloak over your shoulders to keep you warm. Now you have your own again."

"But, Eunice," Mollie inquired, more and more puzzled by the girl's appearance and conversation, "are you a pure-blooded Indian? You do not look like one. Your eyes are as big and brown as my sister Bab's, only a little darker. And your features are so fine and pretty. Then you speak such good English and your name is Eunice. Have you ever been to school?"

Eunice shook her head. "A long time a woman stayed in the tent with my grandmother and me. She taught me to speak and to read books. She comes again each winter with the snows. My teacher is part Indian and part white. My grandmother says that an Indian princess must know, these days, all that the white race knows, and she must have the knowledge of her own people as well. But I go now. You will not tell you have seen me. Then, some day when you are alone, I may return."

"Wait a second, Eunice?" begged Mollie and disappeared inside their cabin. She came out with a lovely red silk scarf in her hand. "Take this, Eunice, it is for you!" she explained.

Eunice shook her head. "An Indian princess does not accept gifts," she demurred.

"Oh," laughed Mollie, throwing her gift over Eunice's brown shoulder, "you are a proud little goose! I am sure it is a small enough gift. I want to thank you for the service you did for me in the woods."

Ceally was stirring about in the kitchen. Like a flash the Indian girl was gone. Mollie sat on the veranda steps rubbing her eyes. Had her visitor been a real girl, or was Mollie bewitched by a brown elf?

CHAPTER X

A KNOCK AT THE DOOR

The moon had come up over the tree-tops before Miss Sallie, with Ruth, Bab and Grace returned from their visit to Mr. Winthrop Latham.

"Well, you certainly have missed it, this time, Miss Mollie!" cried Bab, running into the room where Mollie sat reading. "We have had the most wonderful time, and met the most charming people. I never saw anything so beautiful as the village of Lenox. We had a splendid view of it from the tower in Mr. Latham's house. Lenox is called a village of seventy hills, but I am sure we counted more than seventy."

"I am truly sorry you were not with us, Mollie," declared Miss Sallie, coming into the house with the other two girls. "But you will have plenty of opportunity for seeing what we did later on. It will not be long now, before we shall go down in the town to stay. Did you have a nice, quiet time by yourself?" Mollie felt embarra.s.sed. She had hardly been alone.

But the other girls did not give her an opportunity to answer.

"Mollie, we have the finest plan!" Ruth broke in. "We are going to have a c.o.o.n hunt up on the hill. Mr. Latham says it is just the thing to do on these early autumn nights. All the people we met at his house this afternoon are to come up to supper with us to-morrow evening. Afterwards, we are to start out after Br'er Possum and Br'er c.o.o.n. Won't it be a jolly lark?"

"I don't approve of it, Ruth," said Miss Sallie. "I am sure young girls never before took part in such an excursion. I shouldn't allow it, except that Mr. Latham and his sister both a.s.sured me it was done by the best people in Lenox. Then the English amba.s.sador's daughters are to join you."

Ruth looked solemnly at Bab and Grace. The girls were secretly amused at Miss Sallie's social ambitions.

"Mollie," Ruth explained, "we did meet two such nice English girls this afternoon--Gwendolin and Dorothy Morton--and an awfully funny, little man, a secretary at the German emba.s.sy. They say that amba.s.sadors are as common in Lenox, in the season, as millionaires!"

"Did you like Reginald Latham to-day, Bab?" Mollie inquired, as the two sisters walked into their bedroom together.

"Why, yes," admitted Bab. "I liked him as usual. He is a peaceable kind of man, but rather queer. He is too learned for me. His mother seems terribly vain of him. She does nothing but talk about his inventive skill. I believe she encourages the airship business just to get on the good side of his uncle. Mr. Winthrop Latham is simply crazy on the subject and does not seem to care about anything else. And he must have a tremendous lot of money. But Mrs. Latham, the German sister-in-law, as good as told Aunt Sallie she and her son were dreadfully poor. They had always been obliged to live on the income Mr. Winthrop Latham allowed them, since her husband lost his money. But I shouldn't think she and her son need worry; Reginald a.s.sured me that he was his uncle's only heir."

"Bab," Grace asked, joining the two sisters, "why did you spend so much time out in that shed looking at airship models? You know you did not understand them in the least; but our host and his blessed nephew were certainly pleased at your interest. Mrs. Latham showed Aunt Sallie and Ruth and me over the house. They have an art gallery and rooms full of curios, just like a museum. The house is a perfect palace."

"There was an older Mr. Latham once!" Ruth announced, sticking her head in from the door of her bedroom to join in the conversation. "But I don't think he was a credit to the family. They are silent about him. I asked one of the girls we met this afternoon if Mr. Winthrop Latham and his nephew were all of the Latham family. Just as she started to tell me, Reginald Latham came up to us, and she stopped talking in a hurry."

"Miss Ruth Stuart, I believe I was talking," interrupted Grace severely.