She was not sure whether she slept or not. The wall between sleeping and waking was transparent, like glass, and she could see through it. So it was a relief when morning came and she could get out of bed. She was stiff and half sick, but when she had taken her cold bath in the little dressing room they had contrived in the shed, and had got into her clean clothes, she began to feel better. Carin tried in vain to shake her sleepiness off, but she was so wan and worn-looking that Azalea sternly commanded her to keep her bed. In the front room Miss Zillah slept wearily in the arm chair, and Keefe, his eyes wide open, lay watching her. He held up his finger for silence as Azalea drew near, and she slipped out again, comforted at his appearance, to get the breakfast. In the midst of it, she saw some one coming down the path. It was Paralee, swinging along with her great stride. She still wore her hideous, outgrown, ragged dress, but for all that she looked changed from what she had been. Her hair was smoothly combed, her face properly washed, and there was hope in her eye and decision in her step. Azalea slipped out of the door to speak to her. “How be you all?” she asked. Azalea told her, hastily. “Ain’t that a pity, now?” sighed Paralee. “I knew that boy wasn’t peart enough for such a long tug. I wanted him to let me carry pa part of the way, but he wouldn’t hear to it. He’s jest beat out; that’s what ails him. Lying quiet is the best thing he can do, I reckon.” “Yes, I suppose so,” said Azalea anxiously. “And, oh, Paralee, how ever am I to get over to school to-day? I’m so stiff I can hardly move; and there’s so much to be done here at the house that I don’t believe I ought to leave.” “Ain’t it a pity,” said Paralee, kicking viciously at a stone, “that I ain’t got my eddication yet! I would jest love to do that thar teaching for you-all.” “I wish to goodness you could,” sighed Azalea fervently. “But you seem to be the only person around here who even wants to do such a thing—” She broke off her sentence suddenly, remembering that she had heard Mr. Rowantree say that teaching was the one thing in the way of work that he actually enjoyed. She told Paralee. “He’d do it,” she cried, “if only I had some way of getting word to him. It seems such a pity to break up school just when we’re getting it so nicely started, doesn’t it? And this is little Skully Simms’ first day, too! I couldn’t really answer for what might happen if he got there and met the Coulters and their friends face to face.” “Oh, that thar Bud Coulter’ll keep his word about not tetching the little cuss,” said Paralee placidly. (She was a Coulter in her sympathies.) “But I’ll tell you what, Miss Azalea, you jest say the word and I’ll run shortcuts over to the Rowantrees and tell them what’s doing.” “Oh, will you, Paralee? Dare you? Oughtn’t you to be with your father and mother?”