other ranch girl!" You
could have heard a pin drop as Jacqueline went on. "You see we have
plenty of room in our home and I am sure that four girls ought to be
even happier together than just three. If Olive will trust herself with
us, we shall try to do the best that we can for her. I hope some day,
for her sake, we may find out who she really is, but if not, why
perhaps she may be willing to be known as one of us."

Jack looked so proud and at the same time so generous and fine that
Frank Kent, who was standing near enough to overhear her, wanted to
shout with delight, but managed to appear perfectly indifferent, though
Laura did think she heard him say "Ripping!" under his breath.

Mrs. Simpson was crimson with vexation. "Very well, Jack Ralston, do as
you like," she replied coldly. "Understand I wash my hands of the whole
affair. You will live to regret this piece of Quixotic foolishness and
when this Indian girl gets you into trouble, don't come to me."

"We won't, Aunt Sallie," Jacqueline returned gently. "And I hope you
won't think we are ungrateful to you. We saw lots of real Indian girls
at the village yesterday, perhaps Miss Post will have one of them as her
maid. I'll ask Olive to recommend one."

Jack walked quietly away from the group on the veranda, holding Frieda
by the hand while Jean murmured more apologies to Aunt Sallie, being as
careful as possible not to look that lady in the face. Miss Bruce
hardly wished Mrs. Simpson to see how her brown eyes were dancing with
pleasure and pride, but when Aunt Sallie had gone away, Jean made no
effort to conceal her satisfaction from Laura Post and Dan Norton.

Jacqueline marched straight in to find Olive. She was not in her room.
She was not in the maids' room, nor in the big kitchen. Hong Su, Mrs.
Simpson's Chinese cook, explained that the 'Lil Mlissie' had gone out in
the back yard.

To one side and behind the Simpson ranch house was a large kitchen
garden, at only a short distance from the house itself.

Jack and Frieda could not find Olive at once. There was nothing to hide
her and she could not have gone down to the stables that were some
distance away, yet she was nowhere in sight.

Half an acre of Indian corn was ripening and yellowing in the sun. It
rustled and its long dried leaves crackled and swayed, and they soon saw
the Indian girl walking through it with her head bent and tears falling
fast. Straightway Jacqueline thought of the Song of Hiaw