ing--looking only in earnest. To Ruth, especially, it
came like a revelation. She looked around her with surprised eyes. There
were intellectual faces on every hand. There was the hum of conversation
all about her, for the meeting was not yet opened, and the tone of their
words was different from any with which her life had been familiar; they
seemed lifted up, enthused; they seemed to have found something worthy
of enthusiasm. As a rule Ruth had not enjoyed enthusiastic people; they
had seemed silly to her; and you will admit that there is a silly side
to the consuming of a great deal of that trait on the dress for an
evening party, or the arrangement of programmes for a fancy concert.
Just now she had a glimmering fancy that there might be something worthy
of arresting and holding one's eager attention.

"They look alive," she said, turning from right to left among the rows
and rows of faces. "They look as though they had a good deal to do, and
they thought it was worth doing."

Then, curiously enough, there came suddenly to her mind that question
which she had banished the night before, and she wondered if these
people had all really answered it to their satisfaction.

Flossy took a seat immediately in front of the speaker. She was hungry
for something, and she did not know what to call it--something that
would set her fevered heart at rest. As for Marion and Eurie, they hoped
with all their hearts that the "Hoosier Schoolmaster" would give them a
rich intellectual treat, at least Marion was after the intellectual.
Eurie would be contented if she got the fun, and a man like Dr.
Eggleston has enough of both those elements to make sure of satisfying
their hopes. But would he bring something to help Flossy?

CHAPTER VI.

FEASTS.

"He doesn't look in the least as I thought he did." It was Eurie who
whispered this, and she nudged Marion's arm by way of emphasis as she
did it.

Marion laughed.

"How did you think he looked?"

"Oh, I don't know--rough, rather."

Whereupon Marion laughed again.

"That is the way some people discriminate," she whispered back. "You
think because he wrote about rough people he must be rough; and when one
writes about people of culture and elegance you think straightway that
he is the personification of those ideas. You forget, you see, that the
world is full to the brim with hypocrisy; and it is easier to be perfect
on paper than it is anywhere else in this world."

"Or