Come on, now; let's go to the house, and tell her.

But we won't say anything about your father, Judy;--that would only make her unhappy; and we must never make Auntie Sue unhappy--never." He was as eager and enthusiastic, now, as a schoolboy.
"'Course," said Judy, solemnly; "'course you just naturally got ter stay an' take care of her now, after what pap's done said he'd do." "Yes, Judy; I've just naturally got to stay," returned Brian.
Together they went down the steep cliff trail and to the little log house by the river to announce Brian's decision to Auntie Sue.

They found the dear old lady in her favorite spot on the porch overlooking the river.
"Why, of course you will stay," she returned, when Brian had told her.
"The river brought you to me, and you know, my dear boy, the river is never wrong.

Oh, yes, I know there are cross-currents and crooked spots and sand-bars and rocks and lots of places where it SEEMS to us to be wrong.

But, just the same, it all goes on, all the time, toward the sea for which it starts when it first begins at some little spring away over there somewhere in the mountains.