THE RED AXE OF THE WOLFMARK Just as clearly do I remember the next morning.

The Little Playmate lay by me on my bed, wrapped in one of my childish night-gowns--which old Hanne had sought out for her the night before.

It was a brisk, chill, nippy daybreak, and I had piled most of the bedclothes upon her.

I lay at the nether side clipped tight in my single brown blanket.

It was perishing cold.