tell
you a strange story until then, you'll trust me?"

"Until then--and far beyond it--forever," said Pearl. "I'll trust
you--I have an idea you and I are going to stick together for a long
time."

Pearl went back to the school and found her letter of acceptance in
the desk. She tore it up and wrote another, thanking the department
for their kindness in offering her such a splendid position, but
explaining that she had decided to stay at the school at Purple
Springs. She made her decision without any difficulty. There was a
deep conviction that the threads of destiny were weaving together her
life and Annie Gray's, and she knew, from some hidden source in
her soul, that she must stand by. What she could do, was vague and
unformed in her mind, but she knew it would be revealed to her.

Pearl, child of the prairie, never could think as clearly when her
vision was bounded by walls. She had to have blue distance--the great,
long look that swept away the little petty, trifling, hampering
things, which so slavishly dominate our lives, if we will let them. So
she took her way to a little lake behind the school, where with the
school axe she had already made a seat for herself under two big
poplar trees, and cut the lower branches of some of the smaller ones,
giving them a neat and tidy appearance, like well-gartered children
dressed for a picnic.

There were a few white birches mixed with the poplars, so delicately
formed and dainty in their slender branches and lacy leaves, they
looked like nice little girls with flowing hair, coming down to bathe
in the blue lake, timidly trying out the water with their white feet.
The trees formed a semi-circle around the east side of the lake,
leaving one side open to view, and she could see the prairie falling
away to the river, which made a wide detour at this point.

Pearl settled herself in her rustic seat, putting the newspaper, which
she had left for the purpose, behind her back as she leaned against
the tree, to keep the powdery bark from marking her blue coat, and
leaning back contentedly, she drank in the spring sounds.

The sun, which stood almost at noon, seemed to draw the leaves out
like a magnet; she could almost believe she saw them unfolding; above
her head there was a perfect riot of bird's song, and a blue-bird,
like a burst of music, went flashing across the water. A gray squirrel
chattered as he ran up a tree behind her, and a rabbit, padding over
the dead leav