out of her sight, and Nora
whose heart was tender and whose nature was forgiving devoted herself to
the girl, reading aloud, relating funny stories of her father, and when
tired of talking Patty, Mattie, she and Ethel would play bridge.

The men considered that Ethel had had a narrow escape. Uncle John
consulted with Judge Sands as to what was best to do about the kidnapers.
A few days later two suspicious looking creatures were arrested. They had
escaped from Joliet jail and admitted having been for days in the woods.
Ethel rode to the trial and identified their voices but she had not seen
their faces. They were returned to jail in Joliet and before they left
they confessed that they had contemplated finding the girl and holding
her for a ransom. They were intending to sell the horse but they had not
tied him securely and he had broken loose. They were ugly looking
customers.

The next week before the breaking up of camp, when Mr. Casey came to
take Nora home, everyone flocked around him telling of his daughter's
brave act. He took Ethel by the hand and remarked simply:

"It was like Honora to do that. There's none more brave than she--God
bless her."

From that day Nora had no better friend than Ethel. She felt that the
girl had saved her life and her gratitude was boundless.

"Tell me," asked; Nora, "why did you dislike me so?"

"I was wicked, Nora," replied Ethel, "I am ashamed of it now."

"But," persisted the girl, "did you think me vulgar?"

"No," replied Ethel. "I thought you had a loud voice, and there's
something about a loud voice that I dislike. But even so I should have
overlooked that, had I been a good girl. You are so far above me, Nora,
that I am ashamed to even acknowledge it."

"Miss Ethel--" said Nora.

"Call me Ethel in future," said the girl--"please do."

"Well--Ethel--you are not the first one who has criticised my voice. My
teachers have always done so, and even my mother used to say, 'Not so
loud, Nora dear. Speak more gentle like.'"

"Did she?" asked Ethel.

"Yes, my mother had her faults, Ethel, but at heart she was a lady. So
your dislike of me was not so strange after all."

"But," interrupted Ethel, "Nora, perhaps I wasn't thankful to hear your
loud voice when I lay there wounded and helpless, and I'm ashamed to even
have told you."

"I wish you to help me," broke in Nora. "I wish to make myself
different--more of a lady. Will you tell me when I talk too loud?
It will b