ad patiently and persistently and
gloriously refused her advances at a mild flirtation, and refused to
understand them, yet remained her friend and reverenced hero. He was a
good man, and she knew it, for she was a very pretty woman and
understood her art well.

Before the day was over Margaret had reason to feel that a Sabbath in
Arizona was a very hard thing to find. The singing could not last all
day, and her friends seemed to find more amusements on Sunday that did
not come into Margaret's code of Sabbath-keeping than one knew how to
say no to. Neither could they understand her feeling, and she found it
hard not to be rude in gently declining one plan after another.

She drew the children into a wide, cozy corner after dinner and began a
Bible story in the guise of a fairy-tale, while the hostess slipped away
to take a nap. However, several other guests lingered about, and Mr.
Temple strayed in. They sat with newspapers before their faces and got
into the story, too, seeming to be deeply interested, so that, after
all, Margaret did not have an unprofitable Sabbath.

But altogether, though she had a gay and somewhat frivolous time, a good
deal of admiration and many invitations to return as often as possible,
Margaret was not sorry when she said good night to know that she was to
return in the early morning to her work.

Mr. Temple himself was going part way with them, accompanied by his
niece, Forsythe, and the young officer who came over with them. Margaret
rode beside Mr. Temple until his way parted from theirs, and had a
delightful talk about Arizona. He was a kindly old fellow who adored his
frivolous little wife and let her go her own gait, seeming not to mind
how much she flirted.

The morning was pink and silver, gold and azure, a wonderful specimen of
an Arizona sunrise for Margaret's benefit, and a glorious beginning for
her day's work in spite of the extremely early hour. The company was gay
and blithe, and the Eastern girl felt as if she were passing through a
wonderful experience.

They loitered a little on the way to show Margaret the wonders of a
fern-plumed canon, and it was almost school-time when they came up the
street, so that Margaret rode straight to the school-house instead of
stopping at Tanners'. On the way to the school they passed a group of
girls, of whom Rosa Rogers was the center. A certain something in Rosa's
narrowed eyelids as she said good morning caused Margaret to look back