In the weeks that followed the discovery of Olive’s connection with the wealthy old patroness of Primrose Hall a student of psychology would have had an interesting opportunity in the study of the changed attitude of her schoolmates toward her. In the first place, from being an Indian girl of uncertain origin, Olive had suddenly become a heroine of romance and also there was the possibility that she might in time be an heiress, should her grandmother change in her feelings toward her and disinherit the Harmons. In any case, the law would certainly allow her some portion of the old estate. So you see that instead of being looked down upon as the most undesirable student at Primrose Hall, the fourth ranch girl had suddenly become exalted upon a pedestal, and perhaps it is just as deceptive in this world to look up to other people as it is to look down upon them, since a fair judgment can only be attained by standing face to face.

Truly Olive had no more desire for this second false position than she had for the first, but now her shyness, once regarded as ill breeding, was called haughtiness and her classmates stood a little in awe of her. The position was indeed a trying one for everybody concerned in it, for scarcely could the girls who had been unkind to Olive, now throw themselves about her neck begging her forgiveness, simply because so unexpected a turn had come in her fortunes. Of course, some of the unwise girls did do this, but not those with better judgment and taste, for they understood that Olive must be approached more slowly and with greater tact.

Among this second class of girls was Winifred Graham. Now no one could be more vexed than she was with herself for her persistent snubbing of Olive from the first day of her entrance into Primrose Hall, not because she liked Olive any better than she had at first, but because Winifred only cared for persons who might be useful to her, and now this ridiculous Olive with her romantic history, might be very useful indeed. The point at issue was the bestowal of the Shakespeare prize of several hundred dollars, given each year by Madame Van Mater to the Junior students in Jessica Hunt’s class. Mention has been made before that the three girls who stood closest in line for this prize were Winifred, Olive and Gerry. Now Winifred supposed that Olive would of course withdraw from the contest, since she could hardly take a prize presented by her own grandmother, but what Winifred feared was that Olive might throw the balance of her influence in Gerry’s favor. Very carefully she now undertook to show her change of feeling toward the ranch girls without offending them or making them suspicious by too great haste. A confidential talk with Jessica Hunt, who had always been their friend, was one of the methods Winifred first employed, but there was little assistance to be had from Jessica. For in the first place Jessica declared immediately that Olive was not to give up her effort to win the Shakespeare prize. Jessica had talked the matter over both with Olive and Miss Winthrop and they had decided in council that Olive need not give up her cherished ambition on account of her altered connection with Madame Van Mater. The prize had been freely offered without reservations to whatever girl in the Junior class should have the best yearly record, write the best Shakespeare essay at the close of the school year and give the best recitation from any one of the Shakespeare plays.

Not approving of Olive’s continuance in the contest, Winifred had then freely expressed her opinion to Jessica and afterwards to Olive, but though her manner was now entirely friendly, her protest had not the least effect upon Olive’s decision. Indeed, when things had settled down into routine again Olive continued to work harder than ever during the following winter and spring months. Of course, her position among her classmates had altered somewhat; Margaret and Gerry were both her friends as well as a number of other girls who had never been actively disagreeable, but with Winifred, Olive could not keep up more than a faint pretense of friendliness. At heart the two girls did not like one another and no amount of veneering can ever cover a real antagonism of temperament. They exchanged greetings in their class rooms and several times Winifred called on the ranch girls, but as her visits were never returned, she had to try other methods of softening the hostility her own unkindness had created, hoping that before the school year was over something would give her a chance to win their liking.

One month after the return of the Primrose Hall students from their Christmas holidays the Theta Sorority had solemnly and with distinguished rites received Olive and Jean into their mystic order. When finally the invitation, so much discussed, had been extended to the two ranch girls they had not known what to do in the matter. Of course, they had not wished to show continued ill feeling, so with Jessica’s advice, had joined the society, afterwards greatly enjoying the pretty club house and the frequent informal entertainments which the sorority gave during the rest of the school year.

So month after month rolled pleasantly and less eventfully on at Primrose Hall. Weekly visits at the command of her grandmother were still made by Olive to “The Towers.” At first Miss Winthrop had been in the habit of accompanying her and later Jean and Frieda, but there were times when pilgrimages had to be made alone. Why they had to be made at all Olive did not understand, for Madame Van Mater still showed but little liking for the granddaughter whom circumstances and Miss Winthrop had surely thrust upon her. If she liked any one of the three ranch girls it was Jean, for as usual Jean had not really felt the least fear of her and when they had made their first call it was with difficulty that she refrained from giving her hostess a piece of her mind in regard to her treatment of Olive. Perhaps Madame Van Mater’s age prevented her from receiving the scolding and perhaps her manner. For instead Jean told her the story of the ranch girls’ discovery of Olive and of how much she had previously suffered. And perhaps this story worked as well as the scolding, since the old mistress of “The Towers” abruptly invited Jean to tell her nothing more of this woman Laska, but of their life at the Rainbow Ranch. Although all three girls could be eloquent on the subject of the ranch, Jean was allowed the floor and three times in the course of the conversation Madame Van Mater actually had laughed aloud, a proceeding most unusual with her. Perhaps after all, in spite of her hardness and pride, the old woman had not been altogether happy over her treatment of her son’s child, even though she believed that her son had forfeited her love and consideration by his own actions. But whatever her reasons, thus far kept to herself, Olive was forced to continue the weekly calls.

One afternoon in April, when Miss Winthrop was busy with school matters and Jean and Frieda were engaged in a game of basketball, Olive found herself compelled to go alone to see her grandmother. And she was particularly vexed over this special visit, as she had wished to join the other girls in their game.

Always until this afternoon Olive had been received by Madame Van Mater with entire formality in the old drawing room, where they had had their two memorable meetings, but to-day she found the drawing room empty and while she waited a maid came to say that she was kindly to walk upstairs.

Anything was better than the stiffness and coldness of the old drawing room! Because the spring day was cool, Olive on going upstairs found her grandmother before an open fire wrapped about with silk shawls and comforts. Her hair was, of course, piled as high as usual and her costume as handsome, but it was plain to see that she was not so well.

“Kindly don’t come near me, as I am suffering from a severe cold,” she announced, as Olive approached to shake hands with her, never having at any time offered her any more intimate greeting.

Olive sat down, trying to look properly interested, but really feeling bored and uncomfortable at the thought of the next half hour. These calendar-like visits and the fact that Jack Ralston was still a prisoner in New York were the only worries she now seemed to have at Primrose Hall.

“I am sorry you are ill,” she began politely, only to have her remark waved aside.

“I am not ill,” Madame Van Mater returned, “only not well; but if I were there are other more important matters than my health which I wish to discuss with you this afternoon; therefore am I very glad to see you alone.”

There was no answer to be made to this statement. Olive had never attempted to be hypocritical with her grandmother by pretending to feel any affection for her. She now simply sat perfectly still and respectful, waiting to hear what was to be said next. But rarely had she looked more attractive than on this afternoon. In the first place, her walk had given her a bright color and she was wearing a particularly becoming frock.

Miss Winthrop had insisted that Olive always dress with great care on these visits to her grandmother, so this special frock, which Ruth lately had sent from New York, was now worn for the first time. It was of some soft material of silk and wool made with a short waist and softly clinging skirt of a bright golden brown with a girdle of brown velvet. Olive was very slender always and of only medium height, but her dark coloring was rich and unusual and now her expression was gayer and in some unconscious way she seemed more confident and less timid in her manner than formerly.

For several moments after her first long speech Madame Van Mater continued to study the appearance of the young girl sitting opposite her, and then, without the least warning of her intention, said abruptly: “Olive, I suppose you have not understood why I have insisted on your coming to see me so regularly and constantly since my discovery of your connection with me. You may, of course, have guessed, but if you have not I am prepared to tell you this afternoon. I have been studying you and I am now willing to say that I have in the past done you a great injustice. However much my son disappointed me by his choice of an occupation and by his marriage to your mother instead of Katherine Winthrop, I had no real right to cast off from me all responsibility in regard to his child. You are not altogether what I would have you to be, you have less social ease of manner and less conversational ability than I desire in my granddaughter; but I am prepared to overlook these faults in you now, Olive, or at least to give you time to conquer them. What I am coming to is this. I have recently decided to make reparation to you by having you come here to live with me when your year at Primrose Hall is passed, and if I find you as refined and as capable of being managed as I now suppose you to be, I am prepared to change my will, making you heir to the greater part of my estate and giving my grand-niece and nephew, Donald and Elizabeth Harmon, only the portion formerly intended for you. You need not thank me; I am doing this simply because I wish to do it. And also because it will please Katherine Winthrop, who is one of the few persons for whom I have always cared.”

Olive smiled, although the smile did not really cross her lips, but seemed somehow to drift across her entire face. “I had no intention of thanking you, grandmother,” she returned quietly, “only of refusing your offer. It may be very kind of you to desire me to live with you, but I thought you understood that nothing and no one in the world could ever persuade me to stop living with the ranch girls so long as they wish me to be with them. And even after we are grown up and they marry or anything else happens, why, even then, I have plans of my own.”

“Ranch girls, fiddlesticks,” exclaimed Madame Van Mater, far more inelegantly than one would have thought possible to her. “Of course, I wish to say nothing against these friends of yours; under the circumstances I am even prepared to be grateful to them for their kindness to you, but surely you cannot expect to live forever on their bounty, and what can they offer you in the way of social opportunity? I believe they have no parents to introduce them into society, only this chaperon named Ruth Drew and some man or other who manages their ranch.”

Olive flushed and then smiled. “I don’t believe I am very anxious or very well fitted for social opportunity,” she answered, “but I don’t think you need worry about the ranch girls, for when the time comes for them to take any part in society I am sure they will find opportunities enough. I wrote Jack only a few weeks ago, ten days after her operation was over, that as soon as she was well enough and whenever she wanted me to, I would go back with her to the ranch or we would travel or do whatever was best for her. Of course, we don’t any of us know yet whether Jack’s operation was successful, but Jean and Frieda and I have positively made up our minds that nothing will induce us to be separated from her after this year.”

“You are talking school girl nonsense,” Madame Van Mater returned coldly, “but naturally I do not care to argue this question with you. I shall have Katherine Winthrop put the matter before you. But you can rest assured, Olive, of these two things: In the first place, that if at any time you displease me I can leave my money to any one whom I may select, as my husband’s will gave his estate entirely into my hands; and in the second place, that if I desire to control your actions, you are not yet of age and I, and not the ranch girls, am your natural guardian.”

Very few times in her life had Olive ever known what it was to be violently angry, and yet no matter how gentle one’s nature anger must get the best of all of us now and then. Quickly the girl now got up from her chair and crossing the room faced Madame Van Mater with an expression as determined as her own. “Please understand that I do not want to defraud either Donald or Elizabeth Harmon of the money you have always promised them. They have been very kind since the discovery of my connection with them and of course you must be more fond of them than you can ever be of me. The truth of the matter is that though I don’t want to be rude or unfair, I do not like you, grandmother, nor do I feel that I can ever forgive the years of your neglect of me. Do you think it is quite fair for you now to speak of being my natural guardian when for so many years you desired nothing so much as that my name should never be mentioned to you? Please don’t let us talk of this ever, ever any more, but understand that I shall never leave the ranch girls.”

Plainly Madame Van Mater was amazed at Olive’s unexpected anger, for until this moment her granddaughter had always seemed to her rather too gentle and shy. Now the old woman simply shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “You may go,” she replied, “but of course, Olive, I shall decide later what course in regard to you I shall consider it advisable to take.”

So with scarlet cheeks and feeling more obstinate than ever before in her life, Olive, finding herself dismissed, rushed for consolation to Primrose Hall.