“So much the worse for Mary Cecily and the babies,” sighed Azalea. “Well, they’ll have plenty this year, anyway. The farm is really doing well, and it will do better next year now that Jake Panther is to take it over to work it on shares. He has _much_ more in him than I thought at first. Now that he sees there’s some hope ahead for the Panthers, he’s a changed fellow. He’s roofed the cabin he and his grandmother live in, and set up a doorstep, and put out a rain barrel and made all sorts of improvements. Even Grandma Panther herself doesn’t look quite such a witch as she did.” “Oh, but Paralee is the prize,” said Carin. “Since the great news came from Asheville that her father would soon be as strong and active as ever he was, and since dear Aunt Zillah fitted her out in decent clothes, and Jake got his regular job, she walks and looks like one who has just discovered what it is to be alive.” “I hope it will all come right about her going to the Industrial School at Hardinge. You wrote to your father and mother about it, Carin, didn’t you?” “Of course I did, Zalie. That’s the third time you’ve asked me that question. I’m just as sure father will send her away to school as I am that he’ll open up the moonlight school and put Mr. Rowantree at the head of it. Oh, I do wish those dear people of mine would come! There’s so much I want to show them and tell them about. We must take them over to Rowantree Hall the very first thing.” “There’s a large package waiting for me at Bee Tree,” said Miss Zillah. “Little Dibblee Sikes stopped in to tell me. It must be my mantel ornaments. I want to see them on Mis’ Cassie’s spare room shelf before we go.” “Come, Carin we must be off,” cried Azalea, snatching her parasol from its hook. “Good-bye, Aunt Zillah. Only two more little days—little days—little days.” “Silly one!” cried Carin, gathering up her parasol also and trailing after her. “Why is your heart so thistledownish?” “How do I know? How do I know?” answered Azalea, still lilting. “Except because I like my little days.” It had come to that, simply. She liked her little days of hard work. She had broken the back of rebellion that memorable day when Keefe rode away to his great happiness with his sister, and she had been left, bereft of these two “charmers of the world” as she called them, to do her hard stint of work. In a way, Carin followed where she led. If Azalea’s enthusiasm for the teaching had faltered, Carin’s would have faltered too. But Azalea’s devotion to her work had steadily increased since she had fought her fight with envy and selfishness. She had been able to summon to her aid the hidden powers of her will, and these had sustained her even through these last hot, nerve-wearying days of her teaching. Now she felt herself to be the victor over that indolent, brooding, indulgent self which had more than once in her life tried to get the upper hand.