looked bleak. She knew she could make a better deep-dish peach pie
than Mrs. Allen could. And, then, to give the minister apple sauce
and nabiscos!--the first time he had eaten at her table in two
months!

Missy, who knew her mother well, couldn't help feeling a deep degree
of sympathy; besides, she wished Rev. MacGill might have had his
pie--she liked Rev. MacGill better than ever. But she dreaded her
first moments after the guest had departed; mother could be terribly
stern.

Nor did her fears prove groundless.

"Now, Missy," ordered her mother in coldly irate tones, "you take
that horse straight back to Tess. This is the last straw! For days
you've been no earthly use--your practicing neglected, no time for
your chores, just nothing but that everlasting horse!"

That everlasting horse! Missy's chin quivered and her eyes filled.
But mother went on inflexibly: "I don't want you ever to bring it
here again. And you can't go on living at Tess's, either! We'll see
that you catch up with your practicing."

"But, mother," tremulously seeking for an argument, "I oughtn't to
give up such a fine chance to become a horsewoman, ought I?"

It was an unlucky phrase, for Aunt Nettie was there to catch it up.

"A horsewoman!" and she laughed in sardonic glee. "Well, I must
admit there's one thing horsey enough about you--you always smell of