Yet every morning, for the three weeks they had been there, Miranda had insisted upon going forth alone. “My baby,” sobbed the mother, “my baby, out there alone with the wild beasts! I cannot go with her, for she is safer without me. I am no relation whatever to the woods, to say nothing of being a Little Sister.”
“But her shoes and stockings,” I said, pointing to the soft bundle half concealed by Mrs. Kirsten’s skirt, “why are they here?”
“I do not know,” she answered, shaking her head, sadly. “It is possible, of course, that they may insulate her, as it were, from her mother earth, and thus make her so different from the other animals that they could not recognise her as one of them. It is possible, also, that she sees more Bears when she is barefooted.”
There was a long silence, then the little toddler came within range of our vision. She was accompanied by a huge grizzly Bear, who was walking beside her on his hind legs. Her little hand rested confidingly in his great paw, and I confess that the sight made me shudder. They came together, the great Bear walking slowly to accommodate Miranda’s short steps, until they reached a point half-way between the hotel and the edge of the forest.
Then the Bear stopped, pointed to us with his free paw, and Miranda nodded, in token that she understood. She ran on ahead a little way, then turned back. The great grizzly bowed very low, with his right paw placed over the pit of his stomach, then came down on all fours and ambled off into the forest.
Miranda came to us, breathless and laughing. “Oh,” she cried, with her face aglow, “pitty Bears! Booful, booful Bears!”
[Illustration: “Her little hand rested confidingly in his great paw.”]
“Pray, what does ‘booful’ mean?” I inquired in a low tone of the mother, as she put on Miranda’s shoes and stockings.
“It is early English for ‘beautiful,’” explained Mrs. Kirsten, her face white with pain.
Perceiving that it would be the truest kindness to the woman I had learned to love, I stole away. My keen scientific mind quickly grasped the possibility before me. Miranda might be of great use to me—so much was plain—but would it be right? Then I saw that I could not hope to cure Miranda’s malady until I had seen the working of it so often that I fully understood its character and scope. Happy, happy thought!