hours, and she said she did not care if it was four, so they left her.
"Did you ever see such?"
"Cookies!" cried Billy.
"Such blamed stubbornness in all your life?" demanded Sinton. "Won't come to see as fine a girl as Elnora in a stage performance. Why, I wouldn't miss it for fifty dollars!"
"I think it's a blessing she didn't," said Margaret placidly. "I begged unusually hard so she wouldn't. I'm scared of my life for fear Elnora will play."
They found seats near the door where they could see fairly well. Billy stood at the back of the hall and had a good view. By and by, a great volume of sound welled from the orchestra, but Elnora was not playing.
"Told you so!" said Sinton. "Got a notion to go out and see if Kate won't come now. She can take my seat, and I'll stand with Billy.
"You sit still!" said Margaret emphatically. "This is not over yet."
So Wesley remained in his seat. The play opened and went on very much like all high school plays have gone for the last fifty years. But Elnora did not appear in any of the scenes.
Out in the warm summer night a sour, grim woman nursed an aching heart and tried to justify herself. The effort irritated her intensely. She felt that she could not afford the things that were being done. The old fear of losing the land that she and Robert Comstock had pur-
