over a month."

"Montana!" gasped Miss Seldon, "but--how--when?"

"Before you were awake in the morning," she said, and looked from one to
the other of their blank faces. "You look as if it were a shock, instead
of a surprise," she added. "I did not tell you at first, as it would seem
only a whim. But he has told me I have reason for the whim, and that I
should continue. So--I think I shall."

"But, my child--for you are a child, after all--don't you know it is a
very strange thing for a girl to go alone like that, and--and--Oh, dear!
Max, can't you tell her?"

But Max did not. There was a slight wrinkle between his brows, but she saw
it and smiled.

"You can't scold me, though, can you?" she asked. "That is right, for it
would be no use. I know you would say that in your set it would not be
proper for a girl to do such independent things. But you see, I do not
belong to any set. I have just been telling this dear little lady, who
is trying to look stern, some of the reasons why society life and I can
never agree. But I have found several reasons why Art life and I should
agree perfectly. I like the freedom of it--the study of it. And, even if I
never accomplish much, I shall at least have tried my best."

"But, Montana, it is not as though you had to learn such things," pleaded
Miss Seldon. "You have plenty of money."

"Oh, money--money! But I have found there are a few things in this world
money can not buy. Art study, little as I have attempted, has taught me
that."

Lyster came over and sat beside her by the window.

"'Tana," he said, and looked at her with kindly directness, "can the Art
study give you that which you crave, and which money can not buy?"

Her eyes fell to the floor. She could not but feel sorry to go against his
wishes; and yet--

"No, it can not, entirely," she said, at last. "But it is all the
substitute I know of, and, maybe, after a while, it will satisfy me."

Miss Seldon took Margaret from the room on some pretext, and Lyster rose
and walked across to the other window. He was evidently much troubled or
annoyed.

"Then you are not satisfied?" he asked. "The life that seemed possible to
you, when out there in camp, is impossible to you now."

"Oh, Max! don't be angry--don't. Everything was all wrong out there. You
were sorry for me out there; you thought me different from what I am. I
could never be the sort of girl you should marry--not like Margaret--"

"Margaret!" and his fa