At the supper table she told Hinpoha that after school was out she was to go West and live with Aunt Grace, and then sat cynically watching the unbelieving delight which flashed into her face at this announcement. But after the first flush of rapture Hinpoha reconsidered. In her mind's eye she saw Aunt Phoebe living on alone, unloving and unloved, to a lonesome old age. Again she saw the cedar chest with its pathetic wedding garments. Again the words of the fire song came into her mind. "Do I have to go to Aunt Grace's?" she asked. "Not unless you want to," said her aunt, wondering. "Then I think I'd rather stay with you," said Hinpoha. "Do you really mean it?" asked Aunt Phoebe incredulously. The ice was melting in her heart and something was beginning to sing. Hinpoha slipped out of her chair, and, going around behind Aunt Phoebe, put her arms around her neck. The gate of Aunt Phoebe's heart swung wide open. Reaching out her arms, she drew Hinpoha down into her lap. "My dear little girl," she said, "my dear little girl!" And the _Desert of Waiting_ suddenly blossomed with a thousand roses, and Hinpoha saw lying fair before her in the sunlight the _City of her Heart's Desire._ Migwan was once more "in the dumps." The heavy strain under which she had been working all winter, coupled with the constant worry and disappointment, produced the inevitable result, and she broke down. She was chosen a Commencement speaker, and the added work of writing a graduating essay was the last straw. She might be able to attend the graduating exercises of her class, said the doctor, but she was not to go to school any more, and of course there was to be no speech prepared. He would not hear of her working in an office during the summer, so her last hope of going to college in the fall went glimmering. But really this last disappointment did not affect her as strongly as the others had done. She was getting used to having everything she touched crumble to dust, and besides, she felt too tired to care which way things went any more.