of maternal anxiety about the
school question, and he immediately suggested The Hill Top School,
conducted by some friends of his who were Quakers. They accepted only a
few children, but they accomplished wonders with them. Max listened and
took note. He offered to write a letter in Isabelle's behalf. Mrs. Bryce
accepted this help gratefully, and in the end it was arranged that
Isabelle was to be sent there. But the little girl knew nothing of this.

Events marched. She was taken to town and a school outfit bought for
her. She was allowed no word of choice in her things. Max, coldly
distant, and Miss Watts, nervously conciliatory, accompanied her during
this ordeal of fitting and ordering. A month earlier, she would have
worked up a plan of revolt and carried it through, but now, it did not
seem worth while. Their attitude toward her struck in on her spirit. She
hated the thought of the school, but she was glad she was going away.

"What's the name of this place they're sending me?" she asked Miss Watts
one day.

"The Hill Top School."

"Where is it?"

"In Massachusetts. It is a very nice school, and I think you will be
happy there."

"Won't I? Just!"

Miss Watts frowned. There was a queer streak of cynicism growing in the
child that gave her pause. She was fond of her, in her way, but she was
glad that her responsibility for her was soon to cease. She had been
induced by Mrs. Bryce to deliver Isabelle at the school, as the day of
her departure fell in horse-show week, and The Beeches was to be full of
house guests.

It was a ripe, mellow, September day when they left. A day on which
Isabelle longed to fling herself into the saddle and gallop and gallop
through the red and yellow world. Instead, for some heinous but
incomprehensible crime, she was being sent to prison. That was the
attitude of mind in which she viewed it.

"All right, now, Isabelle; the motor is here. Have you said good-bye to
your mother?" inquired Miss Watts, all a-flutter.

"Yes," lied Isabelle, and hurried down to the car.

Wally was at the wheel.

"Are you driving us to the station, Wally?" she asked.

"I thought I would," he answered, embarrassed.

She got in and sat beside him. Her attempt at a smile worried him. After
all, she was just a kid, being bundled off in disgrace. He felt a vague
regret that he meant so little to her. He wondered if she really loved
any one. Then her search for "regular parents" came back to haunt him