n an unexpected
telegram came to him from Mrs. Polk. It read:

"Meet Nita and myself at L---- to-morrow, 7 A. M. train".

How the brief message thrilled him! He had plodded so long alone. He
sprang up from his place at the breakfast table where the message had
been handed him, his eyes shining and his step buoyant. Securing leave
of absence from school duties for a couple of days, he went at once to
hire a team which would take him forty miles over the mountains to the
railroad station.

Forty miles! With a good team and a buoyant spirit they seemed little
more than so many city blocks. To look into the face and talk once
more with the "little mother" would renew his enthusiasm for his work.
She must have known that he was growing dull and spiritless with the
lingering winter days,--she had such a wonderful way of divining
things. His eyes grew misty with tender recollection of her.

And Nita,--beautiful Nita Trowbridge,--when she should step out in the
early morning light, it would be like flashing his glorious mountain
sunrise upon some artist's masterpiece! And he was hungry for the
beauty and grace and charm of the city which she embodied. Yes, it was
true, there was no denying it! And fast and faster sped the retreating
miles under his joyful expectations till the journey was ended, a
night's refreshing sleep had passed and he stood at last at the little
station, restlessly pacing up and down the platform, with eye and ear
strained to detect the first hint of the incoming train.

Next he was rushing into the rear sleeper!

"Little mother!"

"Steve!" were the greetings as he took Mrs. Polk in his arms while the
eyes of both brimmed with tears. Then turning quickly to Nita, he
greeted her with less demonstration but with equal warmth.

Catching up their hand-bags he hurried them out, for through trains
show scant respect for mountain stations, and leading the way to his
waiting vehicle he helped Mrs. Polk in with easy confidence, then
turned to Nita. What was it about her that made him instantly
conscious that the spring wagonette was very plain, the newness long
gone and that the horses, with abundant manes and tails, lacked
trimness and style? He started to apologize for his turnout, then
quickly set his lips. If he must begin apologizing here, where would
it end?

"This is just a mild forerunner of the heights before you," he said
laughingly, as he carefully helped her mount the high step before
which