ill? She's a dear, I think!"

"Yes; but she wasn't old then, you know. She was young, and so pretty!
She showed me her picture, once--how she looked then."

"Yes, yes--go on!"

"Well, they were sweethearts, but they had a quarrel or something,
and--anyhow, Mr. John Sanborn ran away."

"How long ago?"

"Twenty years; and now he's back, and they've made everything all up
lovely, and he wants to marry her and take her West."

"Oh-h!" breathed Genevieve. "It _is_ just like a story; isn't it? And
didn't it turn out lovely!"

"Y-yes, only it hasn't turned out yet."

"What's the matter? I thought you said they'd made it all up!"

"They have. She'll marry him; but she--she's afraid of Texas, too, just
as Mrs. Granger was, I guess."

"Oh, I see," cried Genevieve. "Pooh! We'll fix that in no time,"
finished the Texas "missionary," with confidence.

"There, I knew you would," sighed her friend, blissfully. "You see, I
specially wanted Miss Sally to be happy, because I couldn't find--"
Cordelia caught herself up in time. She must not, of course, tell
Genevieve about Sally Hunt's lost brother whom she had failed to find.
"Well, you know, anyway, Sally Hunt is very poor," she explained
hastily; "and everybody said, when we went to Texas last summer, that
she'd have to go to the Poor Farm soon, if something wasn't done. So
I'm specially glad to have her happy, and--" Cordelia stopped, and
turned to Genevieve with a new look in her eyes.

"Genevieve, I've just remembered," she cried. "At the ranch last summer,
when I was talking to Mr. Jonathan Edwards and didn't know his name was
'Sanborn'--I've just remembered that I told him about Miss Sally, and
how she'd have to go to the Poor Farm. Genevieve, I'm sure--I just know
that's one reason why he came home!"

"Of course it was," agreed Genevieve, excitedly; "and we'll go straight
up there now, if Aunt Julia'll let us; only--" her face fell--"Cordelia,
when _shall_ I get in my studying?"

"To-night, Genevieve; you must study to-night," answered Cordelia,
firmly. "You mustn't sacrifice your studies, even for missionary work.
Uncle always says it isn't right to send money to the heathen when your
own child is hungry; and I'm sure this is the same thing. Maybe we can
go Saturday morning, though," she finished hopefully.

"I'm sure we can," declared Genevieve; "and I'm just as excited as I can
be. I just love missionary work," she exulted, as she waved her hand in
farewell,