ve you? Well, we'll see if we can't find some one to send
for you soon. There's an old Indian who often comes this way, but he's
away buying cattle. Maybe John can think of a way we could send for you
early in the week. Then you would be ready to go with us on the trip.
You would like to go, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, so much!" said Margaret, with a sigh of wistfulness. "I can't think
of anything pleasanter!"

Margaret turned suddenly, and there, just behind her, almost touching
her, stood Rosa, that strange, baleful gleam in her eyes like a serpent
who was biding her time, drawing nearer and nearer, knowing she had her
victim where she could not move before she struck.

It was a strange fancy, of course, and one that was caused by sick
nerves, but Margaret drew back and almost cried out, as if for some one
to protect her. Then her strong common sense came to the rescue and she
rallied and smiled at Rosa a faint little sorry smile. It was hard to
smile at the bright, baleful face with the menace in the eyes.

Hazel was watching her. "You poor child! You're quite worn out! I'm
afraid you're going to be sick."

"Oh no," said Margaret, trying to speak cheerfully; "things have just
got on my nerves, that's all. It's been a particularly trying time. I
shall be all right when to-morrow night is over."

"Well, we're going to send for you very soon, so be ready!" and Hazel
followed her husband, waving her hand in gay parting.

Rosa was still standing just behind her when Margaret turned back to her
desk, and the younger girl gave her one last dagger look, a glitter in
her eyes so sinister and vindictive that Margaret felt a shudder run
through her whole body, and was glad that just then Rosa's father called
to her that they must be starting home. Only one more day now of Rosa,
and she would be done with her, perhaps forever. The girl was through
the school course and was graduating. It was not likely she would return
another year. Her opportunity was over to help her. She had failed. Why,
she couldn't tell, but she had strangely failed, and all she asked now
was not to have to endure the hard, cold, young presence any longer.

"Sick nerves, Margaret!" she said to herself. "Go home and go to bed.
You'll be all right to-morrow!" And she locked the school-house door and
walked quietly home with the faithful Bud.

The past month had been a trying time also for Rosa. Young, wild, and
motherless, passionate, wilful and impetuous,