Margery got up from her place on the floor. "I thought we'd sell out and go to Europe for the rest of our lives," she said, "but as Lydia says, the story would follow us there. Dad," sharply, "you aren't going to sell the Last Chance and use that money?"
"I closed it up, last week," said Dave shortly. "I'm going to have the place torn down."
Margery rubbed her hand over her forehead. "Well," she said, "I don't see that I'd gain anything but a reputation for being a quitter, if I went to Lydia's. I'll stay with you folks, but I'll go to college, if Lydia'll stand by me."
Lydia rose. "Then that's settled. On Monday we'll register. I'll meet you on the eight o'clock car."
"I can't thank you, Lyd,—" began Margery.
"I don't want any thanks," said Lydia, making for the door, where Dave intercepted her with outstretched hand.
Lydia looked up into his dark face and her own turned crimson. "I can't shake hands," she said, "honestly, I can't. The Last Chance and the—the starving squaws make me sick. I'll stand by Margery and help you—but I can't do that."
Dave Marshall dropped his hand and turned away without a word and Lydia sped from the house into the sunset.
Amos heard Lydia's story of her call with a none too pleased face. "I don't think I want you mixing up with them, in any way," he said.
"But let me help Margery," pleaded Lydia, "Little Patience did love her so!"