"That seems like a miracle,--your miracle, Mother Esther." He rose from his chair and stood for a moment behind her, and said in a low voice, as in childhood, "_Me_ mother, _me_ teacher." There was a suspicious choke in his voice, and, turning, he lifted Edith, tossed her to his shoulder, and ran with her down toward the road. Kenneth overtook him, and as they strolled along, they talked of many things, but chiefly of Esther, and her great work for the Indian. "How did it all come about?" asked Wathemah. "Oh, in a roundabout way. Her magazine articles on the Indian first drew attention to her. Then her address at the Mohonk Conference brought her into further prominence. She was asked to speak before the Indian Commission. Later, she was sent by the Government to visit Indian schools, and report their condition. She certainly has shown marked ability. The more she is asked to do, the more she seems capable of doing." "A wonderful woman, isn't she?" "Yes. Vital. What she has done for the Indian, she has also done for the cause of general education in Arizona." "I fear she will break down under all this, Father Kenneth." "Never fear. Work is play to her. She thinks rapidly, speaks simply, and finds people who need her absorbingly interesting." "Yes, but she gives herself too much to others," protested the Indian youth. "Well, we must let her. She is happier so," responded Kenneth. "What about your own work, Father Kenneth? I have heard in Massachusetts that you are a great force for public good throughout this region. But tell me of the mines." "I invested much of my fortune _here_," said Kenneth, giving a broad outward sweep of his arm. "Some of the mines are paying large dividends. My fortune has more than doubled. But Arizona has been unfortunate in being infested with dishonest promoters. I am trying to bring about legislation that will protect people from this wholesale robbery." "I suspect you enjoy the fight," laughed the youth. "It has created bitter enemies," said Kenneth, gravely. So talking, they again sought the house, and found Esther and Carla on the veranda. The latter sat where Wathemah could see her delicate profile as she bent over some sewing. Quiet happiness and content had transformed her into a lovely woman. "How beautiful you are, Carla!" said Wathemah, admiringly. He enjoyed her confusion. "Do you remember the day I played truant, Carla, and you found me in the canyon, and made me ashamed of myself?" Did she? He did not notice the shadow over the winsome face. "Do you know, Wathemah," said Esther, "Carla would not remain at college, because she felt I needed her. But she has become an indefatigable student." Later, Wathemah discovered for himself that she really had become a fine student. One day he asked her how she came to study Greek.