ant?" Betty
thought irritably. She was beginning to
feel anxious to get upstairs to her mother
again. For in spite of the fact that she
now believed that she had a real affection
for Esther, she had never been able to
recover from her first prejudice for this
shabby, hesitating man. Then his manner
toward her was always so apologetic. Why
on earth should it be? She was always
perfectly polite to him. What a queer
combination of Thanksgiving visitors she
was having!

"Gnaediges Fraeulein," he began. And
Betty ushered him into the drawing room.
For perhaps he was bringing her news of Esther.

CHAPTER III

HER PENSION

"Good luck never rains but it pours, as well as bad luck, mother,"
Betty Ashton said one morning nearly a week later. She had just put
down a big tray of breakfast on a small table before Mrs. Ashton and
now seated herself on the opposite side.

Mrs. Ashton sighed. "If your good luck storm has any reference to us,
Betty dear, I am sure I don't get your point of view. For if anything
but misfortune has followed our footsteps since your father's death I
am sure I should like to hear what it is." And Mrs. Ashton shivered,
drawing her light woolen shawl closer about her shoulders.

There are some persons in this world whom troubles brace. After the
first shock of a sorrow or calamity has passed they stand reinforced
with new strength and new courage. These are the world's successful
people. For after a while, ill luck, finding that it can never down a
really valiant spirit, grows weary and leaves it alone. Then the good
things have their turn--health, better and more admiring friends, fame,
money, love. Whatever the struggle has been made for, if it has been
sufficiently brave and persistent, the reward is sure. But there are
other men and women, or girls and boys, for age makes no difference,
who go down like wilted flowers in the teeth of the first storm. And
on them life is apt to trample, misfortunes to pile up.

Mrs. Ashton was one of these women. She had made things doubly hard
for Betty and Dick. Indeed, except for his sister, Richard Ashton
would never have had the strength of purpose to sail for Germany to
complete his medical studies. He would simply have surrendered and
commenced his practice of medicine in Woodford without being properly
equipped for perhaps the greatest of all the professions--the struggle
to conquer disease. Yet somehow Betty had had a clea