ally trivial. For Uncle Seth was
dead. The dear guardian and wise counselor would greet her no more. At
first her grief seemed unbearable; but the good Bishop took her into
his own home for a little time and she came back to Oak Knowe somewhat
comforted for her loss.

Besides she had had a little talk with Miss Tross-Kingdon, and there
was again sweet peace and confidence between them. Miss Muriel now
helped the girl in her work, inciting her ambition and keeping her so
well employed that she had little time to sit and grieve.

Indeed, the spirit of ambition was in everyone's heart. Easter
holidays were past, spring exams proved fairly satisfactory with much
yet to be accomplished before Commencement came. So the weeks fairly
flew, the outdoor recreations changing with the seasons, and Dorothy
learning the games of cricket and golf, which were new to her and
which she described in her letters home as "adorably fascinating and
English." Tennis and basket-ball were not so new. She had played these
at the Rhinelander Academy, the first private school she had ever
attended; but for even these familiar sports she spared little time.

"It does seem as if the minutes weren't half as long as they were in
the winter, Winifred! There's so much, so much I want to finish and
the time so short. Why, it's the middle of June already, and
Commencement on the twenty-first. Only six days for us to be together,
dear!" cried Dorothy in the music room with her violin on her lap, and
her friend whirling about on the piano stool.

They were "programmed" for a duet, the most difficult they had ever
undertaken, and were resting for the moment from their practicing
while Dorothy's thoughts ran back over the year that was past.

"Such a lot of things have happened. So many bad ones that have turned
out good. Maybe, the best of all was Jack-boot-boy's running away and
our finding him. It gave Robin and me a rather unhappy time, but it's
turned out fine for him, because as he says: 'It's knocked the
nonsense out of me.'"

"The Dame will let no more creep in. Old John told me how it was. Soon
as Dr. Winston told him where Jack was, at that hospital, he said to
his wife: 'I'm going to see him.' Then that 'rare silent woman' spoke
her mind. 'Husband, that'll do. I'll ride yon, on the cart, to fetch
him home here to our cottage. The doctor says he's well enough to
leave that place. I'll get him bound out to me till he's twenty-one.
Then I'll let