girl, clasping her hands over the scraggily row of pins. "I found all of these, and She doesn't allow us to give them away,—we have to pick them all up and keep them. She will give us something if we do,—and She will punish us like anything if we don't. That's what everybody says. That girl ought to know better than to ask for them."
Marjorie stood and looked at her wonderingly. "I wish you'd tell me who She is," she said.
"Why, you know,—everybody knows," and the girl walked away, up the trail, with her head in the air. As Marjorie turned to go, she noticed a handkerchief lying on the log where the girl had been sitting; but before she could pick it up to restore it, the girl came rushing back, sat down on the log, threw her head back and laughed an unnatural "ha-ha-ha," without a sign of a smile on her face, and then picked up the handkerchief and started away.
Marjorie's astonishment was too great
