favorite excuse, that of being in mourning, stated that she did not wish
Hinpoha to go out in society.

"But this isn't 'society'," broke in Hinpoha desperately.

"A meeting of a club partakes of a social nature," returned her aunt,
"and is not to be thought of." And there the matter rested.

So Nyoda had to depart without accomplishing her mission. Hinpoha,
utterly crushed, followed her to the door, and Nyoda gave her hand a
reassuring squeeze. "Don't despair, dear," she whispered hopefully; "she
will come around to it eventually, but it will take time. Be patient.
And in the meantime read this," and she slipped into her hand a tiny
copy of "The Desert of Waiting." "Just be true to the Law, and see if
you cannot find the roses among the thorns and from them distil the
precious ointment that will open the door of the City of Your Desire
later on."

Hinpoha thrust the little book into her blouse, and when she was safe in
her own room read it from cover to cover. When she finished there was a
song in her heart again and a light in her eyes. Resolutely she turned
her face to the East and began her long sojourn in the Desert of
Waiting.

Nyoda pondered the problem for a long while that night, and the next day
she went to call on Gladys's mother. Mrs. Evans had taken a great liking
to the popular young teacher of whom Gladys was so fond, and cordially
invited her to spend as much time as she could at the house with the
family. It was to her, then, that Nyoda appealed for advice in regard to
Hinpoha. Mrs. Evans made a slight grimace when the facts were laid