"I'm trying, Bessie, all the time. Well, she told me to wish that I might succeed. And I did. And then I began to hope for it and to want it so much that gradually I believed I could. And as soon as I believed it myself, why, it began to come." "You wanted to so much--that's why, I suppose." "Yes. You see, when you believe you can do a thing, you don't get discouraged when you fail at first. It's when you're doubtful and think you can't do a thing at all, that it's hardest. Then when anything goes wrong, it's just what you expected, and it makes you surer than ever that you're going to fail." "Oh, I see that! I understand now, I think." "Remember that, Bessie. It's done me more good, knowing that, than almost anything else I can think of. When you start to do a thing, no matter how hard it is, be hopeful and confident. Then the set-backs won't bother you, because you'll know that it's just because you've chosen the wrong way, and you go back and start again, looking for the right way." "Oh, look!" said Bessie, suddenly. "Isn't it growing black? Do you see that big cloud? And I'm sure I felt drops of rain just then." "I believe it is going to rain. That's too bad. It will spoil the great Council Fire." "Won't they have it if it rains?" "I'm not sure whether there's a big enough place inside or not. But, even if there is, it's much better fun to have it out of doors--a great big fire always seems more cheerful if it's under the trees, so that the great shadows can dance about. And the singing sounds so much better in the open air, too. Oh, I do hope this won't be a real storm!" But that hope was doomed to disappointment. The rain came down slowly at first, and in great drops, but as the wagons neared the fire and got under the shelter of the trees, the wind rose, and soon the rain was pouring down in great sheets, with flashes of lightning now and then. As they climbed out by the fire it hissed and spluttered as the rain fell into it. No girls were in sight. "They must all have gone in to get out of the rain, or else they'd be out here to welcome us," said the Guardian. "Oh, there's Mrs. Chester! I knew she wouldn't let the rain keep her!" And Wanaka ran forward to greet a sweet-faced woman whose hair was slightly tinged with grey, but whose face was as rosy and as smiling as that of a young girl. Bessie and Zara followed Eleanor shyly, but Mrs. Chester put them at their ease in a moment. "I've heard all about you," she said. "And I'm not going to start in by telling you I'm sorry for you, either, because I'm not!" Had it not been for the laugh that was in her eyes, and her smile, the words might have seemed unkind.