she sighed presently: "Oh, deah, all those
things sounded so nice and comforting when they seemed meant for othah
people. They don't seem so comforting now that I'm in trouble myself.
It's like the poultice Aunt Cindy made for Walkah's toothache. She was
disgusted because he didn't stop complaining right away, and said it
ought to have cured him if it didn't. But it wasn't such a powahful
remedy when she had the toothache herself. She grumbled moah than
Walkah. It's all well enough to say that I'll seal up my troubles as the
bees seal up the things that get into the cells to spoil their honey,
but now the time is heah, I simply can't!"

Nevertheless, what the School of the Bees taught did help. So did the
sight of the patient old Camelback Mountain, that had inspired the
legend of Shapur. And more than all the little group in front of the
Wigwam helped, as she remembered how bravely they had met their
troubles.

One by one her happy Arizona days came back to her. After all, it was
something to have lived fifteen beautiful years untouched by trouble.
She was thankful for that much, even if the future held nothing more for
her. If she couldn't be happy, she could at least take Mary's advice and
"not let loose and howl" about it any more. If she couldn't be bright
and cheerful, she could "swallow her sobs and stiffen." With the
resolution to try Mary's remedy for her woes in the morning, she lay
drowsily watching the firelight flicker across the picture of the
Wigwam.

CHAPTER XI.

IN THE ATTIC

IF the sun had been shining next morning, it would have been easier for
Lloyd to keep her resolution, and face the family bravely at breakfast.
But the rain was pouring against the windows; a slow, monotonous rain
that ran in little rivers over the lawn, melting the snow, and turning
the white landscape into a dreary scene of mud and bare branches.

Twice on the way down-stairs she paused, thinking that she could not
possibly sit through the meal without crying, and that it would be
better to go back and breakfast alone in her room than to be a damper on
the spirits of the family. Even so slight a thing as the tone of
sympathy in her grandfather's "good morning" made the tears spring to
her eyes, but she winked them back, and answered almost cheerfully his
question as to how she felt.

"Oh, just like the weathah, grandfathah. All gray and drippy; but I'll
clean up aftah awhile."

She could not smile as she said