She mended everything she could find that needed mending, and she spent many hours telling her mother all that had happened in her absence.

But for once in her life her usual resources failed her.
The little mining camp of Lone-Rock was high up in the hills, so that April there was not like the Aprils she had known at the Wigwam.

There were still patches of snow under the pine trees above the camp.

But the stir of spring was in the air, and every afternoon, while Mrs.Ware was resting, Mary slipped away for a long walk.

Sometimes she would scramble up the hill-side to the great over-hanging rock which gave the place its name, and sit looking down at the tiny village below.