s of their lives. "Donald
must surely be back soon," she told herself, trying to be patient, "and
Jim will be here with the mail before long. Oh, that poor child--what
can it all mean?"

There was a slight sound behind her, and Mrs. Graham, too, stepped out
on the porch. She was looking pale and distressed.

"How is she now?" Miss Jessie whispered, anxiously.

"I think she has fallen into a doze; she must be quite exhausted, poor
child. She has had a terrible shock of some kind."

"Do you think it can have been caused by anything in Marjorie's letter?
She must have been reading it when she fainted."

"I don't know what to think," said Mrs. Graham, clasping her hands
nervously. "She spoke of that Randolph girl--the little girl who was
killed in the earthquake, you know. Oh, Jessie, you don't suppose--"
Mrs. Graham did not finish her sentence, but the two women looked at
each other in the dusk, and both their faces were pale and startled.

"I must go back," said Mrs. Graham in a hurried whisper; "I dare not
leave her long. When she wakes she may remember; I think her memory is
coming back. I am afraid you will take cold out here."

"I am not cold, but I will come in soon. I am waiting for Donald and
Jim. I must warn them not to speak loud; it might startle her again."

Mrs. Graham made no further objection, but went back into the house and
Miss Jessie folded her hands and waited.

Five, ten minutes passed, and then came the sound of distant hoofs. With
a sigh of intense relief, Miss Jessie sent the wheeled-chair gliding
smoothly off the porch, and across the lawn. The hoof-beats drew nearer,
and now she heard voices. Was it her brother or Jim, and who were the
others, for she distinctly heard more than one voice?

"Is it you, Donald?" she called, and in the still, clear air, her voice
was audible an eighth of a mile away.

"No, Miss, it ain't Mr. Graham, it's me," came the answer in Jim's
well-known voice. "I've got some folks with me."

Miss Jessie waited in silence while the hoofs and voices drew nearer. It
was no uncommon thing for strangers to stop at the ranch, where they
were always sure of a hospitable reception and a night's lodging. She
was glad Jim was not alone. Perhaps the visitors, whoever they were,
might be able to help, but how she could not imagine. It was nearly
dark, and the first few stars were beginning to glimmer in the evening
sky.

The horses were very near now, and she could disting