c, which scared them both, and so back to the hotel, the
Captain saying: "My! my! but she has grown. 'Tis twenty years since I
took this turn."

In some strange way Bertha had drawn courage, resolution, pride, and
ambition from what she saw on this short ride. That she was in a car and
mistress of it was in itself a marvellous distinction, and the thought
of what she would have been--as a "round-tripper" from Sibley
Junction--added to her pleasure and pride. She was always doing sums in
her head now. Thus: "Suppose our excursion does cost twenty dollars per
day; that's only one hundred and fifty per week, six hundred per month,
and our income is ten times that, and more." She had not risen above the
habit of calculation, but she was fast rising to higher levels of
expenditure.

She met Mrs. Brent with something of this mood in her manner, but was
instantly softened and won by her visitor, who did not in the least
resemble Miss Franklin in appearance, though her voice was wonderfully
the same. Her eyes were wide, her brow serene, and her lips smiling.

"Why, you're a child," she said--"a mere babe! Dorothy didn't tell me
that."

Bertha stiffened a little, and Mrs. Brent laughingly added: "Please
don't be offended--I am really surprised." And then her manner became so
winning that before the Western girl realized it she had given her
consent to join a dinner-party the following night. "Come early, for we
are to go to the theatre afterwards. I'll have some of the university
people in to see you. Miss Franklin has made us all eager to meet you."

Bertha had a dim perception that this eagerness to meet her was
curiosity, but her loyalty to her teacher and the charm of her visitor
kept her from openly rebelling.

The Captain was not so easily persuaded. "'Tis poor business for me," he
said. "Time was when I went to bed like a wolf--when the time served;
but now I'm as regular to me couch as a one-legged duck. However, to
keep me wife in tune, I'll go or come, as the case may be."

Mrs. Brent did not attempt to be funny with this wounded bear, and they
parted very good friends.

As her visitor was going, Bertha suddenly said, "Wait a minute," and,
going to her hand-bag, brought out an envelope addressed in Congdon's
big scrawling hand. "Do you know these people?"

Mrs. Brent glanced at it. "Why, yes, Joe Moss is an artist. He's
well-known here, and you'll like him. His wife is a very talented woman,
and will be of g