Mom Wallis was out at the door to greet her guest when she arrived, for
Margaret had chosen to make her visit last from Friday afternoon after
school, until Monday morning. It was the generosity of her nature that
she gave to her utmost when she gave.

The one fear she had entertained about coming had been set at rest on
the way when Gardley told her that Pop Wallis was off on one of his long
trips, selling cattle, and would probably not return for a week.
Margaret, much as she trusted Gardley and the men, could not help
dreading to meet Pop Wallis again.

There was a new trimness about the old bunk-house. The clearing had been
cleaned up and made neat, the grass cut, some vines set out and trained
up limply about the door, and the windows shone with Mom Wallis's
washing.

Mom Wallis herself was wearing her best white apron, stiff with starch,
her lace collar, and her hair in her best imitation of the way Margaret
had fixed it, although it must be confessed she hadn't quite caught the
knack of arrangement yet. But the one great difference Margaret noticed
in the old woman was the illuminating smile on her face. Mom Wallis had
learned how to let the glory gleam through all the hard sordidness of
her life, and make earth brighter for those about her.

The curtains certainly made a great difference in the looks of the
bunk-house, together with a few other changes. The men had made some
chairs--three of them, one out of a barrel; and together they had
upholstered them roughly. The cots around the walls were blazing with
their red blankets folded smoothly and neatly over them, and on the
floor in front of the hearth, which had been scrubbed, Gardley had
spread a Navajo blanket he had bought of an Indian.

The fireplace was piled with logs ready for the lighting at night, and
from somewhere a lamp had been rigged up and polished till it shone in
the setting sun that slanted long rays in at the shining windows.

The men were washed and combed, and had been huddled at the back of the
bunk-house for an hour, watching the road, and now they came forward
awkwardly to greet their guest, their horny hands scrubbed to an
unbelievable whiteness. They did not say much, but they looked their
pleasure, and Margaret greeted every one as if he were an old friend,
the charming part about it all to the men being that she remembered
every one's name and used it.

Bud hovered in the background and watched with starry eyes. Bud was