“You ought to be glad that the boarders like you,” said Margery reprovingly.

“They don’t, as a rule; only the horrors and the elderly gentlemen approve of me.  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.  The president has written father that he is very indolent this term and often absent from recitations; and one of the Santa Barbara boys, a senior, writes Philip that he is not choosing good friends, nor taking any rank in his class.  Mother has written him such a letter this morning!  If he can read it without turning his back upon his temptations, whatever they may he, I shall never have any pride in him again; and oh, Polly, I have been so proud of him, my brilliant, handsome, charming brother!”

“Poor Edgar!  I can’t believe it is anything that will last.  He is so bright and lovable; every one thought he would take the highest honors.  Why, Margery, he is, or was, the most ambitious boy I ever knew, and surely, surely he cannot have changed altogether!  Surely he will come to himself when he knows he may have to leave college unless he does his best.  I ’m so sorry, dear old Peggy!  It seems heartless that my brighter times should begin just when you are in trouble.  Perhaps mamma and I can do something for Edgar; we will try, you may lie sure.  Good-by, dearest; I shall see you again very soon.”

Ten days later, Polly stood on the deck of the Orizaba just at dusk, looking back on lovely Santa Barbara as it lay in the lap of the foothills freshened by the first rains.  The dull, red-tiled roofs of the old Spanish adobes gleamed through the green of the pepper-trees, the tips of the tall, straggling blue-gums stood out sharply against the sky, and the twin towers of the old Mission rose in dazzling whiteness above a wilderness of verdure.  The friendly faces on the wharf first merged themselves into a blurred mass of moving atoms, then sank into nothingness.