with his wife and son. The latter acted as Norah's tutor, and found his
task an easy one, for the untrodden ground of the little girl's brain
yielded remarkable results. To Mrs. Stephenson fell the work of gently
moulding her to womanly ways--less easy this, for while Norah had no
desire to be a tomboy, she was firmly of the opinion that once lessons
were over, she had simply no time to stay inside the house and be
proper. Still, the gentle influence told, imperceptibly softening and
toning her character, and giving her a standard by which to adapt
herself; and Norah was nothing if not adaptable. Then, six months
previously, the old man they all loved had quietly faded out of life;
and after he had gone his widow could no longer remain in the place
where he had died. She pined slowly, until Dick Stephenson, the son,
had taken her almost forcibly away. The unspoken fear that the parting
was not merely temporary had merged into certainty. Billabong would
know them no more. The question remaining was what to do with Norah.

"I want you to have the school training," Mr. Linton said, when they
talked the matter over. "You must mix with other girls--learn to see
things from their point of view, and realize how many points of view
there are outside Billabong. Oh, I don't want you to think there are
any better "--he laughed at the vigorous shake of the brown curls--"but
the world has wider boundaries, and you must find them out. There are
other things, too"--vaguely--"dancing and deportment, and--er--the use of
the globes, and I think there's a thing called a blackboard, but I'm
not sure. Dick didn't know. In fact, there's a regulation mill, and I
suppose you must go through it--I don't feel afraid that they'll spoil
my little girl's individuality in the process."

"Is it a big school, Daddy?"