oup of them gathered around her to
receive her admiration and praise for their beautifully curled hair,
good clothes and hair ribbons. Bits of family history were freely
given to her too, such as Betty Freeman's confidential report on her
mother's absence, that she dyed her silk waist, and it streaked, and
she dyed it again--and just as soon as she could get it dry, she would
come--streaks or no streaks--and would Pearl please not be in a hurry
to begin.

Then the meeting was called to order, and the smaller children were
set like a row of gaily colored birds around the edge of the platform,
so their elders could sit on their little desks in front, and the
schoolroom was filled to its last foot of space. There were about a
dozen chairs for the older people.

Pearl had gone to the back of the room to speak to the old gardener
from Steadman's farm, a shy old man, who just naturally sought the
most remote corner for his own. Her affectionate greeting brought a
glow into his face, that set Pearl's heart throbbing with joy:

"It's good to see you, Pearl," he said, "you look like a rose to me,
and you don't forget an old friend."

Pearl held the hard old gnarled hand in her own, and her heart was
full of joy. The exaltation of the day she rode home was coming
to her. Love was the power that could transform the world. People
everywhere, all sorts of people, craved love and would respond to it.
"If I can cheer up poor old Bill Murray, and make him look like this,
with a glisten in his eyes, I'm satisfied," she thought.

To Mr. Donald Pearl looked like a rose, too, a rose of his own
growing, and his voice trembled a little when he called the meeting to
order and in his stately way bade everyone welcome.

"I am going to hand over the meeting to Mr. Steadman in a moment," he
said, "but before I do I wish to say that the Chicken Hill School
is very proud today to welcome one of its former pupils, Miss Pearl
Watson."

At this the gaily colored company who bordered the platform, burst
into ecstatic hand clapping, in which the older members joined rather
shamefacedly. Demonstrations come hard to prairie people.

"The years she spent in this school were delightful years to me," went
on Mr. Donald. "She helped me with the younger children--she helped
me to keep up enthusiasm for the work--she helped me to make life
pleasant for all of us--she did more--she helped me to believe that
life is worth the struggle--she helped me to