“Don’t you know any Indian stories, Wenonah?” asked Lois one day when they were all sitting together in the tent, watching the rain through the open door, just as Pierre and Iona had done in the hollow tree. Lois and Hal wished very much that they could have some such experience in fairy land as had come to those other children; and when they said so the Indian girl smiled.

“You will find out,” she said, “that we can all call upon the greatest wonder worker of them all every day right now.”

“Who? Who is it?” asked the children.

“It is Love,” said Wenonah. “Love settles quarrels. Love makes plain people beautiful. Love brings happiness. Supposing Love were taken out of the faces and actions of your father and mother. What would your lives be like?”

“O well, of course, it couldn’t be,” said Hal, his eyes growing big with such an awful thought.

“What do you suppose makes the king and queen of Fairyland send Rose-Petal and Lily-bud and the others on their errands of kindness?”

“We don’t know,” answered Lois.

“Love whispers to them that somebody is in need, of course,” explained Wenonah. “You asked me if I didn’t know any Indian stories and that made me think of the great chief Pola.”

“Please tell us about him,” begged Hal.

“Did he have any children?” asked Lois.

“Yes, a little daughter named Polawee. She was the most beloved princess in the world and it was all because Love was her constant companion. If she heard of any children who were sorrowful, or hurt, or unhappy, she went to them at once and did not leave them until they were cheered and the world again seemed a glad place to live in. Her father was a great chief with a crown of feathers, and his face and body decorated with bright paint, but he died and was forgotten, while the gentle Polawee has never been forgotten, nor ever will be in that country where they lived.

The people named a river for her. It was a narrow stream, scarcely more than a creek; for Polawee loved this river and often led a crying child to look into its clear depths, for the child was sure to laugh at such a funny face as looked up from the sparkling water. Then Polawee laughed and the ripples laughed and they were all happy together.

Many years afterward when a village of white people had come to be on this spot where the Princess Polawee lived, a little girl named Rowena used to come and stand on the bridge that crossed the stream. She knew about the Indian maiden for whom it had been named—how kind she was, and how good to everybody.

As she stood looking down into the water one day, two tears splashed into the water.

Rowena had red hair and freckles. She was thin and round-shouldered. The school children teased her and called her Hyena. So her heart was very sore and you can imagine when she leaned over the Polawee today what a reflection she saw, with her bent figure, and her sullen, plain, unhappy face. How she wished the Indian princess were here now to take her part and help her to punish the teasing children. She would like to see them all as unhappy as she was.

“Oh Polawee, Polawee,” she exclaimed, and more tears splashed into the stream.

“Yes. Doesn’t it seem too bad?” said a pleasant little voice. It seemed to come from the weeping willow growing beside the bridge. Rowena started and looked at the tree dipping its drooping leaves into the water.

“If Polawee saw her river today I think it would make her kind heart ache,” went on the voice.

Rowena stopped crying and looked all about. Finally she perceived what she thought were the gauzy wings of a dragon-fly, but as they came nearer she saw that it was a lovely little fairy who stood near her on the railing of the bridge.

The fairy smiled when she saw that the astonished child perceived her. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Rowena,” replied the little girl, staring with her sad, tearful eyes.

“A pretty name,” said the fairy, and she looked so kind that Rowena shook her head.

“But the children call me Hyena,” she said, “and I am bent and homely, with red hair—”

“Hair lighted by the sun,” said the fairy.

“And freckles,” added Rowena.

“The sun’s golden kisses,” said the fairy.

Her loving expression warmed Rowena’s heart.

“Are you the Princess Polawee?” she asked in awe.

“No,” replied the fairy, “my name is Lily-bud; but I know all about the Princess Polawee and I thought perhaps you were crying because her river is so changed from the crystal stream where she brought children to look at their unhappy faces, to make them laugh. The princess would scarcely recognize her river if she saw it now.”

“What changed it?” asked Rowena.

“People who didn’t love it,” replied Lily-bud. “When the village grew up here the people[Pg 89] didn’t like the river. It once rose and overflowed its banks and washed away their seeds and they began to treat it like an enemy. They threw sticks and stones and mud at it.”

“As they do at me,” said Rowena. “I know that in the old days unhappy children came and looked into the river until they grew glad, so I come every day and stand here and look into the water, but all I see is the girl they all make fun of. I never thought before of pitying the river,” she added. “I’m sorry now that I ever threw mud and stones and sticks into it, as I have done many times.”

“Come with me,” said Lily-bud, holding out her hand; “I will take you to the land where there are only loving thoughts.”

“No,” replied Rowena, the sullen look settling over her face again, “I will stay and look into the river, for there I shall see the truth. I see why the others despise me, and I despise them too,” she added bitterly.

“But you are not seeing the truth,” said Lily-bud. “If you had come in Polawee’s day you would have seen a true picture of little Rowena, but in this poor, muddy stream, and bent over as you are when you look into it, there is no truth reflected back.”

Lily-bud glanced down at the water. “Poor river Polawee,” she added, “I am glad the princess can not see what wrong stories you are telling to the children of this day, and not at all your fault.”

She smiled again at the little girl with the swollen eyes.

“Come with me,” she said, “where there are no lies.” Her expression was very sweet.

“I don’t see why you want me,” said Rowena, hanging her head.

“Because you need Love,” returned Lily-bud, “and we will find it. I am going to give you a rule to remember, to use all your life. It is this: Look up and to the right.”

Rowena from habit bent over again and gazed at the twisted, distorted image of herself in the muddy river.

“What did I tell you to do?” asked Lily-bud kindly.

Rowena lifted her head, looked up and to the right and there she saw a cloud, tinted with such lovely colors that they held her gaze.

Lily-bud touched her with her wand and they both floated gently up from the bridge until they rested on that cloud, which was sailing on toward the right.

“How beautiful!” exclaimed Rowena. It was so wonderful to be high above all the things that had made her unhappy, and the colors on their cloud, always changing and each more beautiful than the last, made her heart beat fast. She had always loved brightness and had seen so little. The wide sky itself seemed to lift her. She wondered why she had so seldom looked at it.

As they sailed on Rowena began to hear music, as of a chorus of children singing. How charming it was! How joyful it sounded! She wished it might go on forever. She looked all about to locate the sweet sounds, but could see nothing. The music grew ever louder and fuller, so she knew that they must be approaching it, and at last Rowena saw before her a scene so wonderful that it made her eyes wide with delight.

Lily-bud took her hand and they stepped from the cloud upon the edge of an orchard. Some of the trees bore orange blossoms, some oranges, others a variety of fruits, and on the thick green turf children were skipping hand in hand, in circles, and singing as they went. How fragrant the air was; what brilliant plumage showed as birds flitted from tree to tree urged by the children’s songs to break forth in their own melodies.

Rowena clasped her hands and looked at her companion. “What,” she asked, “made you leave all this and come to me by the muddy Polawee?”

“Love,” replied Lily-bud.

Now the singing children caught sight of the stranger and ceased their music and skipping. There were boys among them, and Rowena feared boys. She shrank and would have hidden behind Lily-bud had she not been so small. Lily-bud saw her expression.

“Remember the rule,” she said.

So Rowena, desperately afraid she would be pelted with something, although there seemed only fruit to throw there, looked up and to the right. Sitting among the branches of orange blossoms she saw a white dove, and the dove, seeing her look at him, flew down to her band, and this made Rowena so happy that she didn’t care what was done to her if only they wouldn’t frighten this lovely white creature away.

“A new child, a new child,” cried the children and they ran to meet Rowena, who put up her other hand to guard the dove, and shrank back.

“Come and sing, come and sing,” cried the children. “The dove can sit on your head.” And wonderful to relate the white bird immediately flew up and perched on Rowena’s red locks, while two children seized her hands and led her into the circle.

“I don’t know the song,” she said, half-crying with surprise and happiness.

“Yes you do. All children know the song,” they told her. “Just open your mouth and it will come out.”

And it did come out; and Rowena sang and skipped around the circle, feeling the dove’s little feet in her hair, and so happy that her heart swelled within her.

When they ceased and sat down laughing, to rest on the thick green grass, Rowena found herself beside the boy next whom she had been skipping. He picked up a golden pear and offered it to her.

“Is this heaven?” she asked him as she took it. The dove had flown back to his nest.

“Heaven can be anywhere,” he answered, as he picked up a pear for himself and began eating it.

“Not where I came from,” replied Rowena decidedly.

“O yes,” said the boy, “wherever you are yourself, you can make it.”

“That’s easy to say,” retorted Rowena.

“It’s easy to do,” said the boy, taking a deep bite of his pear. “You’ve only to love everybody and look up and to the right.”

“If you saw the Polawee river you would know that it isn’t very easy to love everybody,” said Rowena.

“What’s the matter with it?” asked the boy.

“It was a beautiful, clear river when it was named for the Indian Princess, Polawee, and she brought unhappy children to look into it until they stopped crying and were as glad as she was.”

“Yes,” replied the boy, “but she had her arms around them while they looked. It was her love that helped them.”

Rowena turned her head away and thought. When she turned back again she said, “The Polawee is like me. No one loves us. They throw mud and sticks into the river, just as they do at me. They call us both names.”

“Then,” said the boy, “you and the Polawee should be changed together.”

“Yes,” said Rowena, “but I am not a fairy like Lily-bud. No one would care what I said, or do anything for my asking.”

“O yes, they would,” returned the boy so decidedly that it made Rowena wonder if he might possibly be right. “Love is stronger than Lily-bud or any other fairy. Love is always at your side ready to help. If you don’t listen to the teasing of the other children, and smile through it and let Love look through your eyes, and you look up and to the right, you will see what will happen. Love will show you how to clean the river, too.”

Rowena looked at her companion more closely than she had done before. This was such strange talk for a boy. She saw that he was dressed in white, and for the first time she noticed that wings grew from his shoulders. Then it was that she realized that it was not that all these children were as large as she was, but that she was now as small as they.

“You know a great deal for a boy,” she said.

“We are taught a great deal,” he answered, “because our king and queen have many errands for us to do when Love directs them.”

Rowena was thinking very fast. The pear she was eating was delicious, and it was wonderful to feel the kindness of everybody in this flower-grown, song-laden orchard. The perfume in the air seemed kindness, and the kindness seemed perfume. One moment she longed to stay here forever, but the next the Polawee seemed to be calling her.

She had sometimes seen pigs allowed to walk into the shallow river and stir up the mud with their long snouts. If it were true that Love was always with her, as willing to direct her as to guide the king and queen of fairyland, then surely she should not mind what other children could do to her. She began to long to try her powers. Here in this garden of delight it seemed very easy to look up and Rowena tried not to remember how different were the dust and unkindness of the earth.

She wondered where she could find Lily-bud, and at once the fairy stood before her.

“Are you happy?” she asked.

“Yes, but I must go home,” replied Rowena, and Lily-bud saw the new hopefulness in her face.

“Love has given you an errand,” she said.

“Yes, yes,” replied Rowena, “if I can only have courage!”

“Love is courage,” replied Lily-bud.

She waved her wand, and on the edge of the orchard there appeared again a rose-tinted cloud. Rowena could see it gleaming through the branches. She looked about on the happy, winged children who began to rise and fly about among the trees. They accompanied the visitor as far as to the edge of the cloud. Could it be Rowena who was thus pursued with affectionate calls and good wishes and loving looks?

She waved kisses back to them as she and Lily-bud floated away on their rosy couch, down, and down, and down.

The voices grew fainter and fainter until they died away. Rowena was so deep in her thoughts that she did not notice when the cloud itself finally faded into mist and disappeared.

A little red-haired girl in a torn calico dress stood on the bridge over the Polawee. She felt a light kiss on the cheek and looked up and about for Lily-bud; but she saw nothing but the weeping willow tree, dipping its tassels in the dark river. Her eyes rested on the empty tin cans and ashes lying in the edge of the water.

Rowena’s first thought was that she should be very late home, and that she would be punished by the aunt with whom she lived.

Her hair was hanging down over her eyes. She had never cared if it did. It shut out some of the things she shrank from seeing.

She hurried off the bridge. She had been away such a long time. How could she explain it? Who would believe her?

One thing Rowena did not know. There is no time in Fairyland. Just as one can in one’s sleep go through hours of adventure and awaken to find that it all happened in one minute, so can a delightful visit to Fairyland take place between two whisks of a cow’s tail.

The fact is that when Rowena entered the kitchen, expecting a rebuke, her aunt turned from the stove and said:

“It’s time to set the table. How untidy you look, child. You’ve torn your dress again, too.”

“Yes, I’ll mend it, Aunt,” replied Rowena.

Her aunt stared. Such a pleasant answer amazed her, and if she was amazed, Rowena was much more so! She had been gone, as it seemed to her, many hours, and here she was at home in plenty of time to set the table for supper!

“Love must have done that, somehow,” she said to herself, and while she worked she thought of the boy in the shining white clothes with whom she had eaten the pear, and she felt again the little pink feet of the dove on her hand, and heard its gentle coo.

Her poor, torn dress and her snarly hair seemed dreadful to her. She must try to look more like those children in the orchard.

She sat up that night and worked hard to mend her dress and she asked for buttons to put on the places where they were missing. Her aunt put her hand on the child’s head. She feared she might be ill, she was so unlike herself, and Rowena, looking up and to the right, saw something very like love looking out of the puzzled woman’s eyes.

The next morning when Rowena was ready for school her aunt looked at her again in surprise. Her hair had been brushed until it shone. She looked pink and clean all over from scrubbing with soap and water. Her old dress was whole and properly buttoned down the back.

“My hair gets into my eyes, Aunt,” said Rowena. “Have you a ribbon that I could use to hold it back?”

“Yes, I guess so,” was the reply and her aunt brought a piece of black ribbon. Rowena tied it around her red locks where the dove’s feet had rested.

“I think I’ll have to get you a new dress, Rowena, if you are going to be willing to take some care of it.”

At this the little girl looked up so pleased that her aunt thought, “She’s not such a bad-looking young one, after all,” and again Rowena saw something like love looking out of the eyes that usually frowned at her.

“What has got you started on all this?” her aunt asked. Rowena had expected the question and had been wondering how she should answer it. She would have been willing and glad to tell her aunt all about her wonderful visit, but how could she expect to be believed?

“I was standing on the bridge, thinking of the Princess Polawee,” she answered. “I was thinking how bad she would feel over the looks of her river. Then I thought that I looked as untidy and muddy as the river myself, and I began to wish I could clean us both up.”

Her aunt was so much surprised to hear this that she began to laugh and Rowena heard the pleasure in it.

“You did well to begin with yourself,” she replied, “for I’m thinking you will have more trouble with the river. The selectmen of the village don’t care how shiftless and careless the people are here. There are laws enough if people only kept them.”

Rowena listened to her attentively. “Where are those men?” she asked.

“In the Town Hall, I suppose, if they ever attend to business, but it’s everybody for himself in this village.”

Now came the dreaded time of every day to Rowena; time to go to school. Usually she prepared an extra scowl and some little clenched fists, ready to fall upon her tormentors as she walked along, but now it seemed a long, long time since yesterday morning and she trudged down the road, saying to herself that Love was beside her, and every few minutes she looked up and to the right.

At last she came in sight of the school-yard and the boys and girls who had arrived early recognized her.

“Hy—Hy—Hyena,” they shouted.

Rowena thought of the children in shining white clothes, and the dove’s little feet on her hair, and the way its wings had fanned her cheek. She remembered the songs that she had known and sung.
“Hy-ena,
Nobody meaner,”

shouted the boys and girls.

The prickly heat she knew began to course down Rowena’s back, but she looked up and to the right and smiled a little as she walked on.

“Hush up,” exclaimed one of the children as she drew nearer. “That isn’t Rowena.”

Rowena heard this and moved on, smiling at the children without a word. Then she entered the school house. As she passed among them they, too, were still, staring at her fair forehead and smiling lips.

Many times during the morning the other children glanced over at Rowena. What had happened to her?

Some of the rougher boys were unwilling to lose the fun of teasing the fiery-tempered little girl, and at recess time they tried it again. Whenever she could not get out of their way she looked up and to the right and was sure to see a lovely cloud or a bird, or a sunbeam—something to remind her of the boy who had told her it was easy to win in a fight like this if one only remembered the rules, and she seemed to the boys so different from their usual victim that they didn’t get much satisfaction out of it.

There was a great deal of curiosity about the change in Rowena and one of the older girls at last spoke to her about it.

“What has made you so changed, Rowena?” she asked.

“The Princess Polawee,” was the surprising reply.

The big girl told the others and they all laughed as if this were a great joke, but Rowena behaved so quietly and looked up so happily, and her forehead, always before protected by the tangled hair, was so white and smooth, that she seemed altogether like a new being, and stories began to go about the village that Rowena had really talked with the spirit of the beloved Indian maiden, and that the Princess had transformed her.

The effect of these rumors was that there was no more teasing of Rowena. In fact the children stood a little in awe of her, and all the time Rowena was holding in her heart the mission which had made her willing to leave the fairy orchard.

One day, without telling anyone what she intended to do, she made her way to the Town Hall. The men whose duty it was to see that the village was kept in order, and who, Rowena’s aunt said, never did it, were sitting around a long table trying to decide whether cows should be allowed to feed in the public park.

Rowena, in her Sunday frock, walked in upon them, and the men took their pipes from their mouths and stared in surprise to see a little girl come in and disturb their conference.

She looked from one to another with eager, bright eyes.

“Are you the selected men?” she asked.

Some of them laughed and some of them frowned. One of the frowning ones said, “Run away, child. What do you mean by coming in here and disturbing us when we are attending to the business of the village?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you do,” replied Rowena earnestly. “I heard that you never did attend to it.”

At this the laughers laughed harder than ever, and the frowners scowled deeper.

“What does the brat mean? Get right out of here,” said one of the latter.

“Hold on, hold on,” said one of the laughers. “Let us hear what the child wants. I know who she is. It’s little Rowena. Who did you want, child?”

“You,” she replied. “All of you. I want the selected men.”

“Well, here we are,” returned the good natured one. “What’s your business?”

“I come for the Princess Polawee, Sir.”

Then how all those men stared and again took their pipes out of their mouths. Most of them had heard the story of a child in the village who had been changed by the spirit of the beloved Indian maiden, and even the frowners stopped frowning as they stared at the little girl with the fair forehead and happy, eager eyes.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said one of them at last. “The Princess Polawee died before your grandmother was born.”

“Yes,” replied Rowena, “but her river goes on, and it is sad to see it look so changed since her time. It should be pure and clear as it used to be. Nobody seems to care but the weeping willows, and children can’t see themselves in it any more. They think they are ugly and bent and dark, when the river would be so glad to give them back the true picture.”

She looked from one to another of the men, hunting for one who seemed to understand.

“That is so,” replied one of them, “the river is unsightly. I’m glad I don’t live near it. I don’t think it’s good for a body’s health.”

“We can’t waste time on this,” said one of the men impatiently. “Run away, little girl, and dream somewhere else. We have serious business for the village to attend to.”

“This is serious business of the village,” replied Rowena, and looking up and to the right, her eye happened to catch that of the man who had spoken of health.

“My aunt says there are laws. Aren’t there any laws about keeping things clean?”

“Yes, of course there are. But how are you going to make people obey them?”

“I’m not going to,” replied Rowena, seriously, “but you will, because unless you promise me, I’m going to find a lawyer.”

The selectmen looked at one another.

“The young one is right,” said one of them at last; “but why do you care so much, Rowena?”

“Because of the Princess Polawee,” she replied. “The children used to call me Hyena until I learned about Love, and the Polawee has been muddied, and bad stuff and cans thrown into it until it looks just the way I used to feel. The Princess knew more about Love than any one who ever lived in this village, and for her sake I am asking you, who were chosen because you were wise men, to help the Polawee to be clean and happy again.”

There was another silence, while the selectmen looked at one another and then at Rowena whose face was all alight. Her eyes were lifted as if she saw something beside the ceiling of the ugly room, and she did. She saw the fragrant orchard and the white-clothed children, and heard the joyous singing.

At last one man brought his fist down on the table.

“The youngster is right,” he said. “Let the cows go to grass for a while and let us talk about the river. Come here, Rowena.” He pulled another chair up to the table. “Come here and join the committee. Now tell us your ideas of how we had better go to work.”

Rowena looked very happy and climbed up at once into the chair.

“People have to be punished when they do wrong,” she said. “First let everybody know that the Polawee is going to be made so clean that if the Princess came to see herself in it the picture in the water would look as lovely as her own face. Then put up signs that anybody who threw things into the river would have to pay money to you. No tin cans, no ashes, no pigs, no sticks nothing must go into the Polawee, then, don’t you see,” Rowena looked around the table brightly, “don’t you see it will wash itself clean, and people will love to go and sit beside it?”

“It is a fact,” said one of the selectmen. “The river hasn’t been much more than a dump for years. We’ll see what can be done about it.”

Rowena left the Town Hall after some more talk, and a very happy little girl she was when she ran home and told her aunt what she had done.

Her aunt lifted up her eyes and hands and laughed. “What are we coming to,” she said, “when the children have to take a hand! Well, you did wonders, Rowena, to stir up those lazy bones.”

The next day in the village paper an article appeared which astonished Rowena’s aunt and all the village. One of the selectmen was the editor of the village paper, and fortunately for Rowena it was the one who had looked the most kindly at her and had invited her to sit up at the table. This is what the paper said:

THE PRINCESS POLAWEE IS IN OUR MIDST.

No one who knows the story of the good Indian Princess will be very much surprised to learn that she has not been able to rest in the happy hunting grounds on account of the sad condition of her beloved river.

From its high estate of comforter to the sorrowing, the Polawee has become the poor, ugly dumping ground of all the lazy folk in our village. The Princess, unable to bear any longer the burden put upon her dear stream, has spoken through the lips of one of our own children and pleaded for a restoration of its beauty and charm.

The village fathers, therefore, have decided to comply with the wishes of the Indian Maid and see that the change is brought about. Henceforth the Polawee is to be the object of our loving care until it comes into its own.

Posters will soon appear in convenient places near the river bank, explaining that any and all persons who throw into the water anything more ugly than freshly gathered flowers, will be punished by a fine, the money thus received to go toward further beautifying the Polawee; but we hope that our citizens will so sympathize with the good Princess, and so realize what an ornament the river should be to the village, that we shall receive no money from that source.

(Signed) Your Village Council.

When Rowena’s aunt read this she wiped her glasses and gazed at the child and then read the article aloud to her.

Rowena skipped all about the room in her happiness.

“What is all this,” asked her aunt, “about the Princess speaking through you?”

“I think that is a joke,” replied Rowena. “One of the selected men was funny and nice.”

When she went to school the next day the children had all heard what was in the newspaper, and heard that it was Rowena who had spoken for the princess. They whispered among themselves, and when she appeared seemed almost afraid of their changed playmate, but she did not notice this at all. The chief thing any little girl can do to be happy is to forget all about herself, and Rowena’s mind was so full of her hopes for the river that she went right up to the other children and said:

“Who will join the Polawee Club?”

“What is that?” asked the others.

“Why,” said Rowena, “I think it would be fun to get together and make the bank of the river pretty. The girls can plant flowers and the boys can make benches and put them in the nicest places, and we shall all be helping to make the Polawee become again a good little clear, clean, lovable stream.”

The children only stared at first, but Rowena looked so eager and happy, and seemed so changed in the pretty dress which her aunt had told her she could now wear to school, and since even their fathers had listened to her and taken her advice, they began to think that they might do so too.

“All right,” said one of the biggest girls, “I’ll join the Polawee Club.”

“And I, and I, and I,” chimed in others. And to make a long story short Rowena did get them all interested at last, and the fathers and mothers were helped to keep the new rules about ashes and tin cans because their children were loving and helping the river.

Sometimes when the Polawee Club were tired and stopped to rest, they would sit down on the grass and Rowena would tell them stories.

The one they liked best of all was that of a little girl who was sore-hearted and lonely. A fairy named Lily-bud appeared to her one day and took her to the fairies’ orchard where the little girl found she could sing, and the other children there were all glad she had come.

She sat on the grass with a boy in shining white clothes and ate delicious pears with him, and he told her of Love, greater than all the fairies. He told her that if in all her troubles she would look up and to the right she would be helped. He said that the Princess Polawee was using Love when she made crying children look into her river; and the little girl listened to it all and was so comforted that she tried what he had told her to do and found that he told the truth.

And while the children planted their flowers and the boys made their benches and Rowena told her stories, the Polawee was washing itself clean.

Love continued to watch over it and at last the weeping willow saw the lovely grace of its branches reflected clearly in the water. The wisps of white cloud and the birds flying over saw themselves in its depths; and whenever a child in that village had a little heartache and wept a little weep, one of the Polawees would lead her to the river and make her laugh at the funny face looking up from the crystal mirror.

But Rowena remembered the words of the boy in shining white:

“Yes, but she had her arms around them while they looked. It was her love that helped them.”