When he was gone, Adam took to pacing along the edge of the oaks. In the light of the camp fire he saw the gleam of Genie’s wide-open eyes. She had heard every word of Adam’s conversation with young Blair. He felt a great sympathy for Genie. Like a child, she was face to face with new life, new sensations, poignant and bewildering. How might he best help her? * * * * * Next morning, when Adam returned from a look around, he discovered Genie up, puttering at the camp fire. She greeted him with undue cheerfulness. She was making a heroic effort to show that this situation was perfectly natural. She did pretty well, but Adam’s keen eyes and sense gathered that Genie felt herself on the verge of great and tremendous events. After breakfast Adam asked Genie to accompany him to the farmhouse. She went, but the free, lithe step wanted something of its old grace. Adam espied the children in the yard, and now he took cognizance of them. Tommy was a ragged, tousle-headed, chubby little rascal, ruddy cheeked and blue eyed. Betty resembled the lad, Eugene, having his fine dark eyes and open countenance. Hal was the largest, a red-headed, freckle-faced imp if Adam ever saw one. They regarded the newcomers with considerable interest. Genie approached them and offered to swing Betty, who was sitting in a clumsy little hammock-like affair made of barrel staves. And Adam, seeing the children’s mother at the door, went that way. “Good morning, Mrs. Blair!” he said. “We’ve come over to chat a bit and see your youngsters.” She greeted them smilingly, and came out wiping her hands on her apron. “Goodness knows we’re glad to have you. Gene has gone to work. Won’t you sit on the bench here?...” Then she espied Genie. “For land’s sake! That your girl in the boy’s clothes? Gene told me what a dunce he’d been.... Oh, she’s pretty! What shiny hair!” “That’s Genie. I want you to meet her--and then, Mrs. Blair, perhaps you can give an old desert codger a little advice,” said Adam. He called Genie, and she came readily, though not without shyness. Despite her garb and its rents, Adam could not but feel proud of her. Mrs. Blair’s kindliness quickly put the girl at ease. After a little talk, in which Genie’s part augured well for the impression she was to make upon people, Adam bade her play with the children. “No wonder Gene spilled the milk!” ejaculated Mrs. Blair. “Why?” queried Adam. “The girl’s more than pretty. Never saw such hair. And her eyes! They’re not the color of hair and eyes I know.” “That’s the desert’s work, Mrs. Blair. On the desert nature makes color, as well as life, more vivid, more intense.” “And this Genie--isn’t it odd--her name is like my boy Gene’s--she’s no relation of yours?” Briefly then Adam related Genie’s story and the circumstances of his association with her. “Laws-a-me! Poor child!... And now she has no people--no home--not a friend in the world but you?”