he had passed out of her immediate care
and was cropping sweet alfalfa with the rest, she watched curiously the
foundations sinking into the grass, the crowd of people who came one May
morning to hear things said round a block of yellow sandstone, the
fitting of the red tiling above the stone walls. By this time she knew
the reason of it all; the dead heir, the monument, the boys and girls
who were coming to be taught in this great kindergarten. Finally, when
these had poured into the place, some of them straggled out into the
pasture and made friends with her. From them she learned more definitely
the great things that had been done and were about to happen; they told
her of the wonderful endowment, of the strangers from corners of the
world never reached even by the lucky horses who had rolled away in the
box cars, of the numberless buildings that were to surround and dwarf
the structures she had seen grow up in the sun.

"The Governor" had driven less often through the yard since the yellow
buildings were up, and the boys and girls playing among them. After
awhile he ceased to come altogether. Then Bonita, the brood-mare,
understood that something had happened. It was more quiet everywhere
after this. Most of the horses and mares, her colts among them, went off
in the cars, not to come back, they told her. She stood under the dark
oaks for hours at a time, fearing lest they would send her, too. Her
longing for the world was past now; she wished to be left in the quiet
pastures with the students to talk to.

It was during these days that Craig, who taught something to the younger
people, used to lean on the fence and smoke during the afternoons. He
was not much older than many of the students she knew, and she liked
him particularly. He had lumps of something white and sweet, and he
rubbed her head in exactly the right spot. When she had won his
confidence, he told her many things about himself and the College. Once
he had been at another place, a college older than this by a long time
but not so famous. The Overseer of this one had written him to come and
teach there, at a better salary. He explained to her what this
meant--money for the support of his mother, and in a few years the study
in Europe of which he dreamed, and for which he worked and saved, and
beside this the growing up with a new university, from an instructorship
in the present to a full professorship in the wonderful future. He told
her what was pro