y of the classroom Cordelia whispered to Genevieve:

"Please wait after school for me. I'll tell you then--about the
missionary work, you know." And Genevieve nodded assent.

Once or twice during the day, Genevieve wondered what Cordelia's
missionary work could be; but for the most part study and recitation
filled her thoughts and time. Mid-year examinations were approaching,
and, in spite of the fact that she had been doing much better work for
the last month, she felt by no means sure of herself for the dreaded
ordeal. It was of this she was thinking when she met Cordelia according
to agreement at the close of the short afternoon session.

"Here I am, dear," she sighed; "but, really, I reckon _I'm_ the one that
needs the missionary work if any one does--with those horrid exams
looming up before me."

"Oh, but you've been doing such splendid work--lately!" cried Cordelia.

"Thank you," retorted Genevieve, wrinkling up her nose saucily at the
pause before the "lately." "I perceive you still know how to tell the
truth, Miss!"

"Genevieve!" protested Cordelia.

"Oh, then you mean it wasn't the truth," bantered her friend.

"Genevieve!" groaned Cordelia, hopelessly.

"There, there, never mind," laughed the other. "Come, we must be running
along; then you shall tell me all about this wonderful missionary work
of yours. What is it?"

"Well, it--it's about another of my--my finds."

"Oh, your lost people?"

"Yes. It's John Sanborn, Hermit Joe's son, you know. He wants to go West
and take his father."

"Well, can't he? Or doesn't his father want to? Maybe you want me to go
and tell Hermit Joe not to be afraid of bronchos and buffaloes," laughed
Genevieve.

A swift color stole into Cordelia's face.

"No; Hermit Joe wants to go."

"Then what is it?"

Cordelia laughed shyly.

"Well, it--it's a lady, Genevieve."

"A lady! Why, Hermit Joe and his son haven't any--any women or cousins,
have they?"

"No; but--but they want one," admitted Cordelia, a little breathlessly.

Genevieve stopped short.

"Cordelia, what _are_ you talking about?" she demanded.

Cordelia laughed softly, but she grew suddenly very pink indeed, and she
clasped her hands rapturously.

"I'll tell you, Genevieve. I've been just longing to tell you, every
minute. It's the loveliest thing--just like a book! It seems Hermit
Joe's son, years ago, before he ran away, had a sweetheart, Miss Sally
Hunt."

"That little old maid on Hunt's H