The Guardians of the Door 137

strange and mournful voices; and when
there was no wind, Mary could hear the
cries and calls of the wild creatures on the
moor.

Mary was fourteen when she lost her
father. He was a rough idle good-for-
nothing, and one stormy night on his way
home from the tavern he went astray and
was found dead in the snow. Her mother
had died when she was so small a child that
Mary could scarcely remember her face. So
it happened that she was left alone in the
world, and all she possessed was a dog, some
fowls, and her mother’s spinning wheel.

But she was a bright, cheerful, courageous
child, and soon she got from the people of
the village sufficient work to keep her wheel
always busy, for no one could look into her
face without liking her. People often won-
dered how so rude and worthless a fellow
could have had such a child; she was as
sweet and unexpected as the white flowers
on the bare and rugged branches of the
blackthorn.

Her hens laid well, and she sold all the
eggs she could spare; and her dog, which

had been trained in all sorts of cunning by