me," she
protested coldly.

But Anthony only held the more firmly to the tray, with his face
crimsoning.

The truth was that he had been appreciating in the past few days a
truth of which the girl herself was as yet unconscious. Betty's manner
toward him had noticeably changed. In the excitement of their
Thanksgiving day meeting and his romantic return of the money which she
had completely forgotten, she had shown far more interest and
friendliness than she now did. On that occasion Betty had overlooked
the young fellow's roughness, his lack of education and family
advantages. Really Anthony had never been taught even the common
civilities of life and had to trust to a kind of instinct, even in
knowing when to take off his hat, when to shake hands, how to enter or
leave a room. And he understood keenly enough his own limitations.
Yet the change in Betty's attitude had hurt him, even though he
acknowledged to himself his failure to deserve even her original
kindness. She was still kind enough of course in the things which she
thought counted. She was cordial about his having his room in the
house with her mother and herself and most careful of thanking him for
any assistance which he rendered them. Yet the difference was there.
For neither in heart nor mind had Betty yet grown big enough to feel
real comradeship with a boy so beneath her in social position and
opportunities.

Nevertheless she did not mean to be ungracious and something in the
carriage of the young man's head as he moved off down the hall
suggested that he was either hurt or angry, although exactly why Betty
could not understand.

"Don't go for a second, Anthony," she called after him. "I wanted to
tell you that you are living in a house with a haunted chamber. At
least I don't know whether this room is exactly haunted, but there is
something queer about it that my mother and brother have never confided
to me. Perhaps I shall move in and find out for myself what it is. I
will if there is a chance of my friends, Esther Crippen and Polly
O'Neill, coming home for the holidays. For it is so big that we could
stay in it together. And perhaps Mrs. O'Neill will let Polly come here
and visit me for a little while. Both the girls are doing wonderful
things in New York City. And I am afraid if they don't come home
pretty soon they will both have outgrown me. It is so horrid to be a
perfectly ordinary person."

As Betty moved off, the expres