But Dora did not cry. She answered Betty's questions in her most matter-of-fact fashion. It was not the girls; they had been more than kind. It was nothing at Harding; it was the way things had turned out at home. Her father had hurt his hand in a harvesting machine. There had been heavy doctor's bills, and while he was still helpless a barn, stored with the fall crops of hay and potatoes, had burned to the ground. So he could not afford to keep Dora at Harding any longer. A letter had come that morning. Perhaps next year she could come back, but at present there was nothing to hope for.