er. It was the great highway that led out into the
world, the road she longed to take. And always in the morning when she
stood at the gate thus, just before turning back to the tasks that held
her, it seemed to beckon her to come away.

And then she ran back to the barnyard to feed her chickens, and made
the second Great Discovery about herself.

Uncle Neil came out of the noisy enclosure where the pigs were fighting
with their morning meal, and helped her throw the feed to her
quarrelsome brood. Uncle Neil had for years been a semi-invalid and
spent his time doing the lighter work of the farm and garden. Though
he had attended school only a few years in his childhood, he had a mind
stored with the wealth of years of reading, held by an unfailing
memory. And now that his physical ailments gave him more leisure, he
was reading everything that was worth while that came to his hand. And
he gave out his wealth generously to Christina as they did their work
every morning in the barnyard.

They laughed together at one old hen whom Christina had named Mrs.
Johnnie Dunn, after the one woman in Orchard Glen who managed
everything and everybody on her farm. Her namesake of the barnyard
ruled all the other hens and saw to it that she was well provided
herself.

"She never waits for Opportunity's bald spot, now does she?" said Uncle
Neil, admiringly, as the busy, fussy lady made a leap and caught a
grain of corn, in mid-air, while another hen was watching for it to
fall upon the ground.

"What's Opportunity's bald spot?" enquired Christina. "How dare you
have some information you haven't given me?"

"Don't you know the old story about Opportunity and his bald spot?"
enquired Uncle Neil delighted.

And then he told the ancient tale of Opportunity and his lock of hair
that hung in front, and Christina listened with more than her usual
absorption. She was making her second discovery.

"There!" she exclaimed, with an energy that sent the hens scurrying
away, alarmed, from her feet. "That's just what's the matter with me.
I am always letting Mr. Opportunity walk past and then when I try to
grab him I catch hold of his bald spot and he slips away."

"Well, well," said Uncle Neil, "I don't think he's walked past you very
often. You're but nineteen to-day."

"I'm sure that's bad enough. That's nearly twenty, and then you're out
of your teens. When I was eleven I made a solemn vow that I'd get a
good education and