agazine, a story with a
thrilling national interest and a keen personal touch that searched the
hearts of men; but they listened as they had never listened to anything
in their lives before.

And then there was singing, more singing, until it bade fair to be
morning before they slept, and the little teacher was weary indeed when
she lay down on the cot in Mom Wallis's room, after having knelt beside
the old woman and prayed.

The next day there was a wonderful ride with Gardley and Bud to the
canon of the cave-dwellers, and a coming home to the apple dumplings she
had taught Mom Wallis to make before she went away. All day Gardley and
she, with Bud for delighted audience, had talked over the play she was
getting up at the school, Gardley suggesting about costumes and tree
boughs for scenery, and promising to help in any way she wanted. Then
after supper there were jokes and songs around the big fire, and some
popcorn one of the men had gone a long ride that day to get. They called
for another story, too, and it was forthcoming.

It was Sunday morning after breakfast, however, that Margaret suddenly
wondered how she was going to make the day helpful and different from
the other days.

She stood for a moment looking out of the clear little window
thoughtfully, with just the shadow of a sigh on her lips, and as she
turned back to the room she met Gardley's questioning glance.

"Are you homesick?" he asked, with a sorry smile. "This must all be
very different from what you are accustomed to."

"Oh no, it isn't that." She smiled, brightly. "I'm not a baby for home,
but I do get a bit homesick about church-time. Sunday is such a strange
day to me without a service."

"Why not have one, then?" he suggested, eagerly. "We can sing and--you
could--do the rest!"

Her eyes lighted at the suggestion, and she cast a quick glance at the
men. Would they stand for that sort of thing?

Gardley followed her glance and caught her meaning. "Let them answer for
themselves," he said quickly in a low tone, and then, raising his voice:
"Speak up, men. Do you want to have church? Miss Earle here is homesick
for a service, and I suggest that we have one, and she conduct it."

"Sure!" said Jasper Kemp, his face lighting. "I'll miss my guess if she
can't do better than the parson we had last Sunday. Get into your seats,
boys; we're goin' to church."

Margaret's face was a study of embarrassment and delight as she saw the
alacrity with