,
and, in her latest letter to me, she wrote that she would finish in
April. I'll just write her to come right here, and bring her typewriter
along. She will need a vacation, and she can have it and do your work at
the same time. Besides, I need to see Betty Jo. She hasn't been to visit
me since before Judy came."

Brian thought that Auntie Sue seemed a little nervous and excited as she
spoke, but he attributed it to her combined interest in the book and in
the proposed typist. The man could not know the real cause of his gentle
old companion's agitation, nor with what anxiety she had considered the
matter for many days before she announced her plan. The fact was that
Auntie Sue was taking a big chance, and she realized it fully. But
she could find no other way to secure the services of a competent
stenographer for Brian, and, as Brian must have a competent stenographer
in order to finish his book properly, she had decided to accept the
risk.

"That sounds all right, Auntie Sue," returned Brian. "But who, pray
tell, is Betty Jo?"

"Betty Jo is,"--Auntie Sue paused and laughed with a suggestion of
embarrassed confusion,--"Betty Jo is--just Betty Jo, Brian," she
finished.

Brian laughed now. "Fine, Auntie Sue! That describes her exactly,--tells
me her life's history and gives me a detailed account of her
family,--ancestors and all."

"It describes her with more accuracy than you think," retorted Auntie
Sue, smiling in return at his teasing manner.

"I reckon as how she's got more of er name than that, ain't she?" said
Judy, who was a silent, but intensely interested, listener. "I've
allus took notice that folks with funny names'll stand a right smart of
watchin'."

Brian and Auntie Sue laughed together at this, but the old lady said,
with a show of spirit: "Judy! You know nothing about it! You never even
saw Betty Jo! You shouldn't say such things, child."

"Might as well say 'em as ter think 'em, I reckon," Judy returned, her
beady-black eyes stealthily watching Brian.

"What is your Betty Jo's real name, Auntie Sue?" asked Brian, curiously.

Again Auntie Sue seemed to hesitate; then--"Her name is Miss Betty Jo
Williams," and as she spoke the old teacher looked straight at Brian.

"A perfectly good name," Brian returned; "but I never heard of her
before."

Judy's black eyes, with their stealthy, oblique look, were now
watchfully fixed on Auntie Sue.

"She is the orphan-niece of one of my old pupils," Au