t her arms, and
the biggest brother drew her to him. "That's the way we've settled it,"
he said. His voice was husky, his eyes overflowing. "I want to help her
get away. An'--an'--Heaven knows how I am going to miss her. You two'll
not feel it as I will." He buried his face in her shoulder. Finally he
spoke again. "Next year, when her money runs out, she'll have my share
of the crop and herd; an' _every_ year she'll have my share till she's
through an' ready to do something for herself. Then I'll buy that
quarter-section. It belongs to the Swede boy. He'll keep it to sell it
to me any time in the next ten years. He says so; that's _his_ part
toward helpin' her."

"Oh, dear old brother," whispered the little girl, "thank you! thank
you!" She was dangerously near to tears and could say no more.

"We've decided," said the biggest, "that we might as well get this thing
over. So--so--she's goin' to-day."

"To-day?" The eldest and the youngest almost shouted in their surprise.

"Yes, to-day," repeated the biggest. "She's goin' to do a little
studyin' this summer; now, I'm goin' to hitch up," he added, as he
kissed the little girl and went out.

The eldest and the youngest remained beside the table, the former
battling with disappointment and sorrow, the latter suddenly wrathful
and concerned. As they sat there, the little girl packed a few last
garments into a leather satchel and put on her hat and coat. Then she
climbed the stairs to the attic to tell the low, bare room good-by.

Ever afterward, when she thought of the farm-house, it was the attic
that first pictured itself in her mind, for the rooms below had seen
many improvements since her birth-night over fifteen years before, but
the attic had remained unchanged. Above the litter of barrels and boxes
that covered the western half of the floor, hung the Christmas trimmings
in their little bag; seeds for the spring planting, each kind done up
separately; strings of dried peppers; rows of cob-corn, suspended by the
shucks; slippery-elm, sage, and boneset in paper packages; unused
powder-horns; and the big brothers' steel traps. To the east of the
stovepipe were their beds, covered with patchwork quilts made by the
mother, and the boxes in which they kept their clothes and trinkets.

The little girl halted sadly beneath the slanting rafters to look round.
When she finally turned away to descend, she had to feel her way
carefully, though the morning sun, but lately ri