ter, out in California. Aunt Grace had no
children and was lonely, and was asking if Hinpoha could come and live
with her. Aunt Phoebe pondered. Of late there had been growing on her a
conviction that she was not a suitable person to bring up a young girl.
She certainly had not succeeded in making her grandniece love her. Aunt
Phoebe really was lonely and she did care for Hinpoha, but she did not
know how to make her care for her. Her experiment had been a failure.
Well, she would send Hinpoha out to California with her Aunt Grace, whom
Hinpoha adored, and she would live on by herself. The prospect suddenly
seemed rather dismal and she confessed that Hinpoha had been a great
deal of company for her, but she would not stand in the way of her
happiness. Her mind was made up. She pictured the joy with which Hinpoha
would receive the news and it brought her another pang.

At the supper table she told Hinpoha that after school was out she was
to go West and live with Aunt Grace, and then sat cynically watching the
unbelieving delight which flashed into her face at this announcement.
But after the first flush of rapture Hinpoha reconsidered. In her mind's
eye she saw Aunt Phoebe living on alone, unloving and unloved, to a
lonesome old age. Again she saw the cedar chest with its pathetic
wedding garments. Again the words of the fire song came into her mind.

"Do I have to go to Aunt Grace's?" she asked.

"Not unless you want to," said her aunt, wondering.

"Then I think I'd rather stay with you," said Hinpoha.

"Do you really mean it?" asked Aunt Phoebe incredulously. The ice was
melting in her heart and something was beginning to sing. Hinpoha
slipped out of her chair, and, going around behind Aunt Phoebe, put her
arms around her neck. The gate of Aunt Phoebe's heart swung wide open.
Reaching out her arms, she drew Hinpoha down into her lap. "My dear
little girl," she said, "my dear little girl!"

And the _Desert of Waiting_ suddenly blossomed with a thousand roses,
and Hinpoha saw lying fair before her in the sunlight the _City of her
Heart's Desire._

Migwan was once more "in the dumps." The heavy strain under which she
had been working all winter, coupled with the constant worry and
disappointment, produced the inevitable result, and she broke down. She
was chosen a Commencement speaker, and the added work of writing a
graduating essay was the last straw. She might be able to attend the
graduating exercises of her c