THE CROW-CHILD

Mipway between a certain blue lake and a deep forest
there once stood a cottage, called by its owner “The
Ltookery.”

The forest shut out the sunlight and scowled upon the
ground, breaking with shadows every ray that fell, until
only a few little pieces lay scattered about. But the
broad lake invited all the rays to come and rest upon her,
so that sometimes she shone from shore to shore, and the
sun winked and blinked above her, as though dazzled by
his own reflection. The cottage, which was very small,
had sunny windows and dark windows. Only from the
roof could you see the mountains beyond, where the light
crept up in the morning and down in the evening, turning
all the brooks into living silver as it passed.

But something brighter than sunshine used often to
look from the cottage into the forest, and something even
more gloomy than shadows often glowered from its win-
dows upon the sunny lake. One was the face of little
Ruky Lynn; and the other was his sister’s when she
felt angry or ill-tempered.

They were orphans, Cora and Ruky, living alone in the

cottage with an old uncle. Cora—or “Cor,” as Ruky
147