of course, from the far-away missionary. Hazel
stayed later in the kitchen the morning of their arrival, conscious of a
kind of extra presence in his mother's room when his letters arrived.
She knew the mother liked to be alone with her son's letters, and that
she saved her eyes from other reading for them alone. Always the older
face wore a kind of glorified look when the girl entered after she had
been reading her letter. The letter itself would be hidden away out of
sight in the bosom of her soft gray gown, to be read again and again
when she was alone, but seldom was it brought out in the presence of the
visitor, much as the mother was growing to love this girl. Frequently
there were bits of news.

"My son says he is very glad I am having such delightful company this
winter, and he wants me to thank you from him for reading to me," she
said once, patting Hazel's hand as she tucked the wool robe about her
friend's helpless form. And again:

"My son is starting to build a church. He is very happy about it. They
have heretofore held worship in a schoolhouse. He has collected a good
deal of the money himself, and he will help to put up the building with
his own hands. He is going to send me a photograph when it is up. I
would like to be present when it is dedicated. It makes me very proud to
have my son doing that."

The next letter brought a photograph, a small snapshot of the canyon,
tiny, but clear and distinct. Hazel's hand trembled when the mother gave
it to her to look at, for she knew the very spot. She fancied it was
quite near the place where they had paused for water. She could feel
again the cool breath of the canyon, the damp smell of the earth and
ferns, and hear the call of the wild bird.

Then one day there came a missionary magazine with a short article on
the work of Arizona and a picture of the missionary mounted on Billy,
just ready to start from his little shack on a missionary tour.

Hazel, turning the leaves, came upon the picture and held her breath
with astonishment and delight; then rapidly glanced over the article,
her heart beating wildly as though she had heard his voice suddenly
calling to her out of the distances that separated them. She had a
beautiful time surprising the proud mother with the picture and reading
the article. From that morning they seemed to have a tenderer tie
between them, and once, just before Hazel was leaving for the night, the
mother reached out a detaining han