rom view in a cloud of dust, "she bears her disappointment
bravely, but it's hard--hard for her, and for us all."

A footstep was heard, and her sister-in-law, Marjorie's mother, came out
on the porch. Mrs. Graham had once been very pretty, but twelve years of
hard work, and constant anxiety as to ways and means, had brought a
careworn expression into the eyes that were so like Marjorie's, and the
hand she laid on the back of Miss Graham's chair was rough and hardened
from housework.

"It's been a hot day, hasn't it?" she said, "but it's cooler now," and
she smiled the brave, cheerful smile she had never lost through all
their troubles and anxieties. "Juanita and I have put up six dozen jars
of blackberries to-day; not a bad day's record, is it? Have you heard
the whistle of the East Bound?"

"I am not sure; I thought I heard a whistle about half an hour ago, but
I have been with Marjorie in the playhouse. We have been having a talk."

"Has she said anything about her disappointment?"

"Yes, a little. She is bearing it splendidly, but it is a real grief to
her, notwithstanding."

Mrs. Graham sighed.

"I was afraid it would be," she said. "It would almost have broken my
heart to part from her, but Donald and I had made up our minds to let
her go. It seemed the only way of giving the child a chance in life, and
now this disease among the cattle has put an end to everything. Donald
says we may be able to send her next year, but she will be nearly
sixteen then, and time is precious. I wish I knew more myself, so that I
could help my little girl, but, like so many other girls, I wasted my
time at school. O dear! if children only realized what an education
might mean to them some day, they wouldn't fritter away their time, as
half of them do."

"Susie," said Miss Graham, impulsively, "have you ever thought of
writing to your brother Henry about Marjorie?"

The sensitive color rose in Mrs. Graham's cheeks, and for a moment she
looked almost as pretty as in the days when Jessie, in the rapturous
devotion of her teens, had considered her "the loveliest sister-in-law
in the world."

"Yes, I have thought of it," she said, "but--but somehow I haven't been
able to make up my mind to do it. You know my family never approved of
Donald's coming out here. My brother offered him a position in his
office in New York, but Donald said he had no head for business, and he
loves this wild life, hard as it has been. I have never let