battered dolls reposed upon a toy bedstead in
one corner, and an array of china dishes, all more or less the worse for
wear, adorned the shelves. Marjorie loved her few possessions dearly,
and in a place where one's nearest neighbor lives five miles away, there
are not many people on whom to bestow things which have ceased to be
useful to one's self, and they are therefore likely to be preserved.

"Now we're all nice and cosy," remarked Marjorie, seating herself
comfortably on the floor at her aunt's feet. "There wouldn't be room for
another person in here, even if there were anybody to come. What good
times we used to have here when I was little, didn't we, Aunt Jessie?"

Marjorie spoke fast and nervously, but there were pink spots in her
cheeks, and Miss Graham was not easily deceived.

"What's the matter, Marjorie?" she asked simply. She and her niece had
no secrets from each other.

Marjorie tried to laugh, but her lip quivered, and the tears started to
her eyes.

"There isn't anything the matter," she said, frankly. "I've been a
goose, that's all. It was all the fault of the book I was reading."

"What book was it?" Miss Graham inquired curiously, glancing at the
volume Marjorie was still holding in her hand.

"It's called 'The Friendship of Anne,' and it's one of those in that box
Father had sent from Albuquerque. It's all about a big boarding-school
full of girls, and the good times they had there, but somehow it set me
thinking, and--and, I don't know why, perhaps because it's been so hot
and still all day, but I began to feel as if I wanted to cry, and so I
came out here to have it out." Suddenly Marjorie dropped her head in her
aunt's lap, with a sob.

For a moment Miss Graham was silent. She stroked the soft, fluffy hair
with her thin fingers, and a look of comprehension came into her face.
When she spoke her voice was very gentle.

"I understand, little girl," she said tenderly. "You haven't said much
about it, but I know it was a big disappointment that Father couldn't
afford to send you to school at Albuquerque this winter. It was a
disappointment to all of us, much as we should have missed you, but it
is one of those things everybody has to bear sometimes."

"I know it," said Marjorie, checking her tears, and making a great
effort to speak cheerfully. "It wasn't poor Father's fault that so many
of the cattle died this year, or that the drought spoiled the alfalfa
crop. I try to think that perh