"I came to see if you could go for a horseback ride this afternoon," said Kenneth. "It's a glorious day." "Just delighted! Nothing would please me better." The two stood inside the open door. As Wathemah saw Kenneth talking to his teacher, he entered the door, pushed between them, nestled close to her, and said defiantly: "Miss Bright _me_ teacher; _mine_!" "Yours, eh, sonny?" said Kenneth, smiling. Then looking into Esther's face, he said: "I wish I could feel as sure that some day you will be mine." A delicate flush swept over her face. When he went on his way, life and vigor were in every step. He seemed to walk on air. The recess over, the children returned to their seats, and Patrick Murphy entered. The school, for the hour, was transformed into a place of general merchandise, for the teacher had promised that to-day they would play store, buy and sell. Business was to be done on a strictly cash basis, and accounts kept. Several children had been busy for days, making school money. Scales for weighing, and various measures were in evidence. Patrick watched the play of the children, as they weighed and measured, bought and sold. At the close of the exercises, he turned to Esther, saying: "Oi wisht Oi wuz young agin mesilf. Yez larn the chilthren more in wan hour, 'n' many folks larns in a loife toime. It's thankful Oi am that yez came ter Gila, fur the school is gittin' on." Having delivered himself of this compliment, he withdrew, highly pleased with himself, with the teacher, with the school, and the world generally. If there was one thing that met with Patrick's unqualified approval, it was "to git on." Near the close of the midday intermission, during the absence of Wathemah, Donald Carmichael said to the teacher, "Ye love Wathemah mair nor the rest o' us, don't ye?" "Why?" asked Esther, as she smiled down at the urchin. "Oh," hanging his head, "ye say 'Wathemah' as though ye likit him mair nor anybody else." "As though I loved him?" "Yep." "Well," she acknowledged, "I do love Wathemah. I love all the other children, too. Don't you think I ought to love Wathemah a little better because he has no father or mother, as you have, to love him?" Donald thought not. "You have no idea," said Carla, who now attended school, "what brutal treatment Wathemah used to receive at the saloon. I have seen him teased and trounced and knocked around till he was frantic. And the men took delight in teaching him all the badness they knew. I used to hear them while I was helping Mrs. Keith." Carla's eyes suddenly filled. "Poor little fellow!" said Esther, in response. "I shall never forget his happiness," continued Carla, "the first day he went to school. He came to me and said he liked his teacher and wanted to go live with her." "Did he? Bless his heart!" "After that," Carla went on to say, "he came to me every morning to see if he was clean enough to go to school."