It was but a few days later that Goodman Kellar banged lustily on the door, asking to see Mistress Brace. He had a fine setting of duck's eggs to sell.

Sally was in the keeping-room mending, but she called Mistress Brace down from her room. Then began a long parley about the eggs and some other produce.

Then Sally had an errand to her tiny room, and as she passed Mistress Cory Ann's door, she saw that a queer little trunk, all hair on the outside, and with rows of great brass-headed nails along the edges, was standing open by the bed.

Sally had often seen the little trunk, which was always kept under Mistress Brace's bed tightly locked. She must have made a great mistake in leaving it open, Sally thought.

She felt for a moment that it would not be quite right to take a peep inside the trunk.

"It does not seem proper," said the Fairy.

"I will take but a peep," Sally replied.

She was so afraid the good Fairy might try to stop her that she hurried over to the bed and stooped down.

Ah, what a delicate, tasteful muslin cape was folded away! And there were letters in one corner. Sally spelled them over, and thought they made a name, but if so it was a strange one. There lay a letter.

"Oh, no, no!" cried the Fairy, as Sally took it in her hands.

"I will take but a teeny-weeny peep, good Fairy," said Sally, "but I feel as though it might be as well for me to see some things that I will never be told of."

But the letter gave no light to Maid Sally. Only toward the end she read: "I have done my best, but my health is failing. Should I not live there will be something for the one I leave." Then there was that strange name again at the very end, the same as was on the cape. Sally spelled it over and over, merely because it was so curious.

Goodman Kellar was moving away, and Sally ran softly to her room.

"Such a queer jumble of letters," she said to herself, still amused over the name, that, if it really was a name, Sally could not have pronounced. They still grouped themselves in her mind.

"Put them on paper," said her Fairy.

"I will," cried the merry maid, and with a pin she pricked the letters on a piece of paper. This she put in a box where she kept a few childish treasures, not any of them worth much.

Then came another great day that Sally knew all about. She had heard it talked of at the store, and the hired men had mentioned it.

The Belle Virgeen was coming up to the quay,—they called it "kee,"—and a gay company was to meet, and a fine supper to be served on the green at Ingleside, after the proud vessel arrived, bringing back her Fairy Prince.

Sally had made up her mind not to go over by the hedge when the supper should be spread. She would be near the quay as the ship came in, and perhaps would get a look at her Fairy Prince, but something held her back from trying to see or hear anything that night at Ingleside.

"I am twelve years old now," she said to herself.

A neatly clad child watched eagerly as the Belle Virgeen came slowly sailing in. Caps flew into the air, old straw ones going high aloft, and cries and cheers went up, as strong ropes made the vessel fast to the quay.

What! was that tall young man the Fairy Prince? He was tall when he went away, but now, at seventeen, he looked almost a man as he stepped ashore and was immediately seized upon by glad, loving hands.

Again the Lady Gabrielle was not in the throng. She would greet her boy in the retirement of home, but others from the Ingleside household were on hand to give welcome.

And after a few moments a rolling figure limped forward, and Lionel held Mammy Leezer's dark hands and looked smilingly down into her face while she told how "done lonesome" she had been without her "babby."

Maid Sally did not know how she herself had grown during the year past. Her splendid hair had been brought into fluffy order, which was all that was really needed. Her face had filled out a little, and the dimples in her brown cheeks were deeper. Her chin was rounding to a finer curve, and the cleft grown more decided. Her eyes were like stars and her teeth perfect.

Dame Maria Kent had one day given her a little brush, telling her to take it to the spring each day and use it on her teeth. And Sally was surprised to see what a small brush and clean water would do for a maiden's teeth. And Sally forgot nothing she once learned in the way of a useful lesson.

The maid was changing in a way. She was growing more and more shy of being seen by those she felt were above her. It was just as great a joy to catch a sight of her day-dream-Prince as it had ever been, but she would run away or hide anywhere sooner than risk meeting him or having him really see her.

One sweet morning she had gone to the pines, her beloved history in her hands. Back from the other trees, and on the other side of what had become a forest path, was a queer gnarled oak, that stood a solitary tree of its kind. And not far up was a complete seat, formed by the crossing of two large boughs. But so thick was the foliage that nimble Sally could be completely hidden, while learning her history by heart.

She was repeating again, with the usual pleasure, all about the discovery of America, when voices and hoof-beats smote upon her ear. And she sat like an image as Lionel Grandison and Rosamond Earlscourt came cantering along, their eyes bright with exercise and the horses tossing their fine manes as if enjoying the merry run as much as their riders.

How grand and manly looked her Prince on his high mount; yet she saw at a glance that he did not ride Hotspur. And ah, how proud and handsome looked the young Lady Rosamond as, with curls flying under her high, peaked hat, she sat the Lady Grace with stately air and held her with a firm, yet easy rein. But her fair face was turned smilingly toward her tall cousin.

"She loves him," said Sally, "she loves him, and what a wonder would it be if she did not! Her own face is a goodly one, fit to be loved indeed. And how beautifully she rides. Were I a maiden of quality, how gladly and swiftly would I leap to the back of a good horse, and away, and away! Ah, I say again, I should love it, I know."

She sat dreaming after the two figures as they rode away, her young heart swelling with admiration of them both. Somewhere, way down in the depths of her soul, there was a little hurt as the winsome pair sped along the far dim road. She was too young to know just what the prick meant, but her good Fairy was at hand."Back to your book, Maid Sally," it said, "and sit not gazing after those who can ride of a summer's morn, wishing in your silly young heart that you too could ride. Your turn may come; who knows?"

"It was not quite that I might also ride," answered Sally, "it was—everything."

"Yes, I know," said the Fairy. "You are quick to reach for that which is beyond you. That is not strange. But keep to your studies and your singing; good things come slowly to the poor, but mind you—they may come!"

"Good Fairy, you do always hearten me," cried Sally, and back she went to her book.

But she did not forget the proud and happy face that the Lady Rosamond Earlscourt turned upon the Fairy Prince.

Then came another day long to be remembered, to be hidden in Sally's heart of hearts and kept there.

The morning broke so cool and sweet that Mistress Cory Ann had a mind to go into the town and buy meat and other things that would last for several days. Butter and meat could be put on the shelf in the well, and no fear of spoiling.

After her morning's work had been cleverly done, Sally knew she could be free for a few hours. The men had gone far afield to work, taking their dinners with them, and it would be well past noon before Mistress Cory Ann would return.

Sally, from very youthful gladness of heart and joy of living, had a mind to make herself fine before going with her book to the greatly enjoyed seat in the large oak-tree.

So she went to the keeping-room, and, standing before the mirror hanging on the wall, she pinned midst her mat of ruddy-gold curls clumps of white strawberry blossoms, starry dogwood blooms, and a white rose or two.

Some time before this, Mistress Brace had seen in a peddler's pack a decent piece of white lawn, and as it was the cheapest thing he had that would make a comely gown for Sunday wear, she bought it for Sally.The maiden sung now in the choir of a Sunday, and, because of the parson's keen eye, she must be seemingly dressed. But the gown was soiled and must soon be done up. So in a spirit of sport Sally put it on, and at breast and waist she pinned great posies of buttercups, daffy-down-dillies, and sprays of fresh green leaves. Then she started for the pine woods and the oak-tree.

The sweetness, sunshine, and melody all about so charmed her for a time that the book for once lay idly in her lap.

"Life is beautiful," she murmured.

"Yes, life is beautiful!" echoed her Fairy; "it is but right that the young should enjoy it."

"I feel so glad to-day," said Maid Sally, "I would I might always feel this way."

"You are learning," said the Fairy, "and life is getting fuller for you every day."

"Yes, life is getting fuller every day," said Maid Sally.

At last she took up her book. The sun was growing very hot, but there was a cool breeze, and the maiden in the tree was reading steadily when again there came the sound of flying hoofs. They came all too swiftly. A very demon of a horse was tearing along the road, his mane flying, his tail out straight, and his body almost to the ground. The rider could not be made out in the mad rush and whirl of the frightened animal.

It was all over in a moment. Hotspur dashed into the woods, banged in his blindness against a pine-tree, and on the instant his rider, seeing a chance to dismount, leaped from his back. But before he could reach the ground, being so near the tree, up bounded the horse just in time to hurl his young master back to the edge of the saddle, from which he fell with such force that he lay on the ground senseless, his fair hair streaming back, his blue eyes closed, while the great hunter went thundering on his way.

Sally did not cry out nor lack for nerve. The finer part of her nature came to her help, as it always will where it but exists, and she felt the thrill of courage that is worth very much when prompt action is needed.

As she slipped from the tree the thought went through her mind:

"If he is killed, straight I must go to the great house and tell what I have seen. If he is but stunned, then must I do what I can to help him."

She bent over and could see that he was breathing. Like a flash she darted across to the house, caught up a dipper and filled it from the water-pail. Then back she sped and with hands that trembled bathed forehead and face, and dropped sprays of water into the parted lips. Then she rubbed his hands and again sprinkled his brow.

Before long the eyes unclosed and fastened dreamily on the ministering maiden. But neither spoke. The eyes remained open, and began to rove a little. Sally saw that speech would come in a moment more.

But at that instant the sound of hurrying hoofs echoed in the distance, several of them, it seemed, and like a startled deer Sally turned, and before Bill, the groom, Corniel, and Sam Spruce rushed up to the spot where lay their young master, she was panting on her seat in the oak-tree.