"What's the game?" he asked. "Never mind! You do what I say!" "All right, I promise," he smiled. The seconds passed and he wondered what she was doing. He knew she could not be very far away. Then there was a slight rustle and her lips touched his cheek. "This," she whispered, "is because for the first time in yoh life you've got what Miss Jane calls grit. Don't move!" There was another pause, and her lips touched his other cheek. "This," again she whispered, "means the blind eyes over yonder are happy, 'cause you've made Nancy see. An' this," she tenderly drew down his face and kissed his forehead, "is that we'll be understandin' friends from now on till the day after never." "Isn't there something else?" he pleaded. "I reckon not," she whispered. She must have moved silently, for in a few moments her voice called a good night from the broken gate. He opened his eyes then, and moved toward his patient horse. He had a feeling that he may not have carried this interview gracefully; but he had done it honestly, and at real personal cost. He began to wonder what it might have cost Nancy--he had given that no thought. Were she a girl of Jane's type, he suspected she would now be hating him. But she was not like Jane; she was Nancy; and, even as his intuition whispered, her cheeks were still flushed with a pleasant warmth of satisfaction. To her it had been romantic and grateful. She seemed to feel that they were honorably at quits. CHAPTER XVI A SPRINGTIME SANTA CLAUS As May crept up the calendar the little schoolhouse became the center of increased activity: commencement exercises were under daily rehearsal and the light of excited interest shone in every face. It was a heterogeneous flock which had answered the call of Jane's horn eight months before: twenty-nine in all, ranging from children of eight to a woman of thirty-five. Nor were their characteristics less diverse. The tobacco-chewing, profane boy was there, with a stolen dirk thrust into his trousers' band, suggesting a turbulent future; and the girl, with the narrow forehead and close, deep-set eyes, was there, pathologically indicating tendencies to kleptomania. But far outweighing these were the straight, courageous bearing and the tender faces of normal promise. Sturdy manhood and womanhood was written across the countenances of many who had answered the call of Jane's horn!