th. The woman at the head of the
table looked at her with undisguised admiration as she passed her a
piece of nicely browned fried salmon which an Indian servant girl had
brought in from the kitchen.

"It is too bad that your father isn't here to see you, Glen," she
remarked. "I never saw you look prettier. If we were outside, I might
suspect that the color in your cheeks is not due to health and exercise
alone."

"I am afraid you are flattering me, Nannie," Glen laughingly replied.
"You will make me vain, if you are not careful."

"I am not in the habit of flattering without good reason, as you well
know, dear. But I have been thinking lately what a great pity it is
that you should be wasting your young life in a place like this."

"Losing my sweetness on the desert air; is that it, Nannie? But what
about you?"

"Oh, I do not signify," and again the sad expression came into the
woman's eyes. "I might as well be here as anywhere else. But with you
it is different. You need companions of your own age, and a more
agreeable life than this place can provide."

"I certainly do," was the emphatic assent. "I never realised it until
my return from the Seminary. What is the use of all my education if I
am to spend the rest of my days here, with not a girl friend, and not
a----"

Glen floundered and paused, while her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

"I understand, dear, so do not try to explain. It is only natural that
you should wish to be admired. I was the same when I was your age.
But you cannot expect to find admirers up here, that is, the right
kind, and especially the one above all others."

Glen looked keenly into her companion's eyes, as if to divine her
meaning. But she saw nothing there which might lead her to suspect
that the secret of her heart was known.

"Do you think that daddy will ever consent to leave this place?" she
asked. "I have not spoken to him about it, for I was quite satisfied
with this life until recently."

"I have mentioned it to him," was the reply. "Ever since you were a
child I have been urging him to leave the north, for your sake, if for
nothing else. He always said that he expected to do so some day, but
here we are the same as ever, and I see no signs of his going."

"I wonder what in the world daddy ever came here for, anyway?"

"Why, for trading purposes, of course. He has done wonderfully well,
and understands the Indians better than any white man in this co