He was vexed. "Are you--in a hurry, Miss Smith?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," she replied, with unmistakable positiveness.

He started off, and hesitated. "Miss Smith, would Jim do to drive?"

"No," sharply. "I want you particularly." At another time she might have
observed his anxiety, but today she was agitated. She knew she was
taking a critical step.

Slowly Bles hitched up. After all it might not rain, he argued as they
jogged toward town. In silence they rode on. Bles kept looking at the
skies. The south was getting darker and darker. It might rain. It might
rain only an hour or so, but, suppose it should rain a day--two days--a
week?

Miss Smith was looking at her own skies and despite the promised sunrise
they loomed darkly. Five thousand was needed for the land and at least
another thousand for repairs. Two thousand would "buy" a half dozen
desirable tenants by paying their debts to their present landlords. Then
two thousand would be wanted for new teachers and a carpenter shop--ten
thousand dollars!

It was a great temptation. And yet, once in the hands of these
past-masters of debt-manipulation, would her school be safe? Suppose,
after all, this Grey gift--but she caught her breath sharply just as a
wet splash of rain struck upon her forehead. No. God could not be so
cruel. She pushed her bonnet back: how good and cool the water felt! But
on Bles as he raised the buggy top it felt hot and fiery.