But good-by for to-day, aunty Meg.

Come to the gate, Peggy dear!" The two friends walked through the orange-grove, their arms wound about each other, girl-fashion.

They were silent, for each was sorry to lose the other, and a remembrance of the dear old times, the unbroken circle, the peaceful schooldays and merry vacations, stole into their young hearts, together with visions of the unknown future.
As Polly untied Blanquita and gave a heroic cinch to the saddle, she gave a last searching look at Margery, and said finally, "Peggy dear, I am very sure you are blue this morning; tell your faithful old Pollykins all about it." One word was enough for Margery in her present mood, and she burst into tears on Polly's shoulder.
"Is it Edgar again ?" whispered Polly.
"Yes," she sobbed.

"Father has given him three months more to stay in the university, and unless he does better he is to come home and live on the cattle-ranch.

Mother is heart-broken over it; for you know, Polly, that Edgar will never endure such a life; and yet, dearly as he loves books, he is n't doing well with his studies.