havin' her own way, Bessie," he said. "But she's my wife, an' she's a good one, an' if she makes mistakes, I've got to let her have her way. Reckon I've made enough on 'em myself. Here, you take this. I guess you've earned it, right enough. That fire didn't do no real damage—nothin' we can't fix up in a day or two."

Bessie's eyes filled with tears. Paw Hoover was simply proving again what she had always known—that he was a really good and kindly man. She longed to tell him that she hadn't set the barn on fire, that it had been Jake. But she knew he would find it hard to believe that of his son, and that, even if he took her word for it, the knowledge would be a blow. And it would do her no good, so she said nothing of that.

"Thank you, Paw," she said. "You always were good to me. I'll never forget you, and sometime I'll come back to see you and all the others. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye, Bessie," he said. "You be a good girl and you'll get along all right. And you stick to Miss Mercer there. She'll see that you get along."

Not until he had gone did Bessie open her hand and look at the crumpled bill that Paw Hoover had left in it. And then, to her amazed delight, she saw that it was a five-dollar note—more money than she had ever had. She showed it to Wanaka.

"I oughtn't to take it," she said. "He thinks I burned his woodshed and—"

"But you know you didn't, and I think maybe he knows it, too," said Wanaka, "You needn't think anything of taking that money. You've worked hard enough to earn a lot more than that. Now I've found out that what you told me was just right. I knew it all the time, but I made sure. Bessie, how would you and Zara like to stay with us, and come back to the city when we go? I'll be able to find some way to look after you. You can find work to do that won't be so hard, and you can study, too."

"Oh, I'd love that, Wanaka," For the first time Bessie used the name freely. "And can we be Camp Fire Girls?"

"You certainly can," said Wanaka.