for her, the worthy motive of this work she had accepted would uphold her and keep her true to the ideal she had set for herself.
The only instructions given Lucy were that she was to go among the families living in the backwoods between Cedar Ridge and what was called the Rim Rock and to use her abilities to the best advantage in teaching them to have better homes. She had not been limited to any method or restricted in any sense or hampered by any church or society. She was to use her own judgment and report her progress. Something about this work appealed tremendously to Lucy. The responsibility weighed upon her, yet stimulated her instinct for conflict. She had been given a hint of what might be expected in the way of difficulties. Her success or failure would have much to do with future development of this state welfare work. Lucy appreciated just how much these isolated and poor families might gain or lose through her. Indeed, though beset by humility and doubt, she felt that a glorious opportunity had been presented to her, and she called upon all the courage and intelligence she could summon. There was little or nothing she could plan until she got among these people. But during that long ride through the lonely hills, up and ever upward into higher country, she labored at what she conceived to be the initial step toward success—to put into this work all her sympathy and heart.
Presently she plucked up spirit enough to address the stage driver.
"How far is it to Cedar Ridge?"
"Wal, some folks calkilate it's round twenty-five miles, then there’s tothers say it's more," he drawled. "But I don’t agree with nary of them."
"You would know, of course," said Lucy, appreciatingly. "How far do you call it?"
"Reckon aboot twenty miles as a crow flies an' shinnyin' round forty on this uphill road."
Lucy felt rather bewildered at this reply and did not
