The sight of a girl in a striped khaki skirt, with a sombrero on her head, sitting astride a bay pony, had quickly attracted the attention of some of the passengers, and Marjorie soon realized that she was being stared at in a manner that was slightly disconcerting. Not that she was in the least shy, but these strangers had a way of looking at her, as if they found something amusing in her appearance, and Marjorie did not like being stared at any more than any other girl. "I don't think we'll stay any longer, Roland," she said, conscious of the fact that her cheeks were burning uncomfortably. And turning the pony's head abruptly, she galloped away in the direction of home. But it was some minutes before her cheeks had regained their natural color. "I wonder why they stared so," she kept repeating to herself. "Was it the sombrero--I don't suppose girls wear sombreros in the East--or was it something else? Oh, there's the whistle; thank goodness they're off!" And Marjorie gave a sigh of relief, and let Roland drop into a trot. It was still early when she reached home, and having delivered Roland to the Indian boy, whose duty it was to look after him, and finding that her mother and aunt were both busy, she betook herself once more to the playhouse, intending to spend the hour before supper in learning more of the fortunes of Anne and her friends. But her ride in the heat had made her sleepy, and after turning a few pages rather listlessly, her eyes drooped, and letting the book slip into her lap, she rested her head against the wall of the cabin, and dropped off into an afternoon nap. How long she had been asleep she did not know, but she started up, wide awake, aroused by a sound close beside her. Then for a moment she sat staring stupidly at the apparition before her; for there, standing in the doorway, regarding her with big, hungry, brown eyes, was a girl--not a Mexican or an Indian, but a pale-faced, dark-haired girl of about her own age, in a faded linen dress, much too short in the skirt, and a battered straw hat, decidedly the worse for wear. "Goodness gracious me!" gasped Marjorie in amazement; "where in the world did you come from?" "I'm hungry," said the stranger, in a remarkably sweet voice; "Won't you please give me something to eat?" "Who are you?" demanded Marjorie, fully convinced that this was a dream. A frightened expression came into the big brown eyes, and the girl's lip began to tremble. "I don't know," she said; "I can't remember. Won't you please give me something to eat?" [Illustration: "WHERE IN THE WORLD DID YOU COME FROM?"--_Page 19._] "I know I'm dreaming," said Marjorie, and she pinched her arm, but though the pinch hurt considerably, she did not wake up. The strange girl continued to stand in the doorway. "How--how did you get here?" she repeated; "where did you come from?"