'Here Is Pierre,' Said Miss Year

After a time I began to grow uneasy. I could not tell how or why, but somehow I did not feel satisfied. By this time it was getting late in the afternoon, and I began to think of retracing my steps. After going a couple of hundred yards I saw before me a single shanty such as I had seen before. This was not one for living in, but merely a roof with three walls open in front. From the evidences which the neighbourhood exhibited I took it to be a place for sorting. Within it was an old woman wrinkled and bent with age. She said: 'Here is Pierre,' said she. Miss Year can hear stories now if he

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