pherson caught the same minor chord of anxiety in her
brother's voice that she recalled had been in it when he told her of
Jerry's claim. It seemed impossible, however, that anything could refuse
to be profitable for this charming, blossomy kind of a girl who must
thrive on easy success or perish, like a flower.

"Oh, land always means an income, my father used to say. Aunt Jerry has
only two hundred acres, but it is a fortune to her," the girl declared.
"I'm not uneasy. As soon as I get a real hold on my property here I'll
be all right. It is getting late. I must go now. No, I am going by
myself," she declared, prettily, as York prepared to accompany her back
to the hotel. "It is straight up this light street and I am going to try
it alone from the very beginning. That's why I didn't go to your office
as soon as I got here to-day. I told Cousin Gene I could take care of
myself and make my own way out here, just as he is making his own way in
the East, working in his studio. No, you shall not go with me. Thank
you so much. No. Good-by." This to York Macpherson, who was wise enough
to catch the finality of her words.

The twilight was almost gone, but a young moon in the west made the
street still light as the two on the porch watched the girl going
firm-footed and unafraid, unconscious of their anxiety for what lay in
the days before her.

"Is it courage, or contempt for the West, that makes her fearless where
one would expect her to be timid? She seems a combination of ignorance
and assertiveness and a plea for sympathy all in one," Laura Macpherson
declared.

"She is the child of two different temperaments--Jim one, and Lesa
another; a type all her own, but taking on something of each parent,"
York asserted, as he watched until the girl had disappeared at the door
of the Commercial Hotel, far up the street.

The next day was an unusual one for four people in New Eden. The wind
came from the east, driving an all-day rain before it, and York
Macpherson did not go to the upper Sage Brush country. Instead, he
worked steadily in his office all day. Some files he had not opened for
months were carefully gone over, and township maps were much in
evidence. Every now and then he glanced toward the upper windows of the
Commercial Hotel. Mr. Ponk had said that Jerry had No. 7, the room he
had occupied for several years. He wondered if this rain was making her
homesick for the Winnowoc Valley and "Eden" and that wonderful Co