It was true enough, as Miss Phinney well understood, and somehow her heart went out to this unfortunate girl now, as never before. "You mustn't think about that," she said at last, in her most soothing voice, "but come and see me as often as you can--every day, if you like, for I shall always be glad to have you. I'd keep on studying, if I were you," she added, as Chip brightened, "it will help you on, and I will gladly hear you recite every day." Then hand in hand, like two sisters, they left the dear old schoolhouse. Little did Miss Phinney, good soul that she was, realize how recently poor Chip had cried her heart almost out on its well-worn sill, or that never again would this strange, winsome, woman-grown pupil enter that temple. At the parting of their ways the two embraced, kissed, and with tear-dimmed eyes separated. "I can't account for it," Miss Phinney said to herself when well away. "It may be a love-affair with young Stetson, or it may be something worse." That evening she called on Angie. The result was fruitless, so far as obtaining any light upon this puzzling matter was concerned, for Angie was either blind to the situation, or feigned ignorance. "They were together all last summer, of course," she said, "in fact, they were forced to be like two children, you know. I was glad to have it so, feeling it would benefit the girl. If any love flame was started then, it has had ample time to die out since." "There is something else the matter with Chip, then," Miss Phinney rejoined, "she has been moody and quite upset at times for the past few weeks, and to-day when school closed, she sobbed like a brokenhearted woman. It was quite pathetic, and I had to cry myself." That night Angie took counsel of her husband. "Well, what if it is so," he responded, to her suggestion that a love-affair might have started between them. "It won't harm either. So far as I've observed, the girl couldn't have been better behaved since she came here. She has never missed an hour at school all winter, no matter how cold it has been. Her teacher says she has made wonderful progress. She has attended church with you every Sunday, and as for Ray--well, if I were in his shoes, I'd be in love with her myself." It was clear enough that Angie's fears were not shared by Martin. "But think of her origin and parentage," answered Angie, "and that outlaw father who might appear at any time! The very idea of Ray marrying her is preposterous. It would wreck his life." "But what about Chip?" returned Martin, who had broader views of life. "You brought her here to Christianize and educate her; do you propose to turn her adrift because she has a pretty face and the boy sees it? She isn't to blame for her origin. As for Ray, if he shows that he is able to support a wife and wants her, I honor him for it, and I'll give him a house to start with."