When it was finished, Marjorie was again her own rosy, smiling self, and
though she still felt the vague weight of sorrow, she had spent a
pleasant, enjoyable hour.

"And now to bed, chickadees," cried their father, "it's long past nine!"

"Is it really?" exclaimed Midget, "how the time has flown!"

"That's because you were my own brave girl, and tried to rise above
misfortune," said Mr. Maynard, as he bade her good-night. "No teary
pillows to-night, girlie."

"No, Father, dear, I hope not."

"Just go to sleep, and dream that you have a few friends still east of
the Rockies."

"More than I'll ever have west of them," responded Marjorie, and then
with her arm round Kitty's waist, the two girls went upstairs to bed.

The next morning at the breakfast table, Mr. Maynard made a sudden and
unexpected announcement.

"Mother Maynard," he said, "if you can spare your eldest daughter, I
think I'll borrow her for the day."

"What!" cried Marjorie, looking up in surprise.

"You may have her," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling, "if you'll return her