s is ready to take up the
studies she cannot enjoy where you are, send her to me. I will get her
ready for the college she dreams about, and, if God takes you from her
soon, as you fear, and as I pray not (though His will be done!), I will
watch over her like a father.'"

When he finished, he looked up at her, his face fairly sparkling. "Of
course you'll go," he said.

"No," she answered sadly, shaking her head; "I can't go. I haven't any
money. The boys have just bought some land that joins ours. If I left,
they'd have to pay my expenses and then hire some one to take my place.
So they wouldn't be able to pay for the land. I shall have to wait till
I can earn something myself."

"It's a shame!" declared the colonel's son. "Because if you work here,
how can you earn anything?"

She shook her head again. "I don't know. Only I _shall_ go some day.
I'm--I'm glad _you're_ going, though."

"But it's been more your hope than mine. I'm sorry it isn't
different--that we aren't just changed around. I don't care to study
much, anyway. I want to be a soldier, like father. I don't see why I
should study so much for that. I've been everywhere with him after
Indians. I wish I could go on at it without stopping to study."

"I don't know what _I_ want to be. I only know that I love to read and
study. If I could read and study I wouldn't mind living on the plains."

"You wouldn't?" cried the colonel's son. "Why, maybe I shall always have
to live here, and--" He stopped in confusion, and got up hastily, hat in
hand. "Good-by," he said. He stepped toward her, his head lowered
bashfully. She wiped her hands on the jumper.

"Do you have to go?" she asked. "Can't you stay and have dinner? My
brothers would love to see you. And I'd cook you something nice."

"No," he replied, a little agitated. "I won't more than catch my train."
He shook hands and started out. At the door he glanced back, and was
startled at her colorless face. "What is it?" he pleaded, coming back to
her side.

She sat down on a bench by the window, the jumper crushed in her
fingers. "Oh, I want to go! I want to go!" she said, her voice deep with
pain and longing. "I'm lonesome here. I miss mother terribly. I'm always
listening for her; I'm always getting up and going into the next room as
if she were there. And then I remember--" She broke down and wept, all
her pride gone.

"Don't, don't," whispered the colonel's son, tenderly. "It'll all come
out right. Nex