."

And Boswell went. The exercises were held in the little chapel. From his
far corner he watched the young women, in uniforms of spotless white,
file to the platform for their diplomas. They all merged, for him, into
one--a tall, lithe creature with burnished hair, coppery and fine, and an
exalted face. Later, from behind the mass of palms and ferns in the
dancing hall, he saw only one girl--a girl in white with the tints of
the thistle flower matching the deep eyes.

And Priscilla danced. Some one, a young doctor, asked her, and
fortunately for him he was a master hand at following. After a moment of
surprise, tinged with excited determination, he found himself, with his
brilliant partner, the centre of attraction.

"Look! oh, do look at the little Canuck!" cried a classmate.

"I never saw any one dance as she does"--it was Doctor Travers who spoke
from the doorway beside Mrs. Thomas--"but once before. It's quite
primeval, an instinct. No one can teach or acquire such grace as that."

Then, suddenly, and apropos of nothing, apparently:

"By the way, Mrs. Thomas, Miss Moffatt has been ordered abroad by Doctor
Ledyard. He spoke to-day about securing a companion-nurse for her. She's
not really ill, but in rather a curious nervous condition. I was
wondering if----" His eyes followed Priscilla, who was nearing the
cluster of palms behind which Boswell sat.

"Of course!" Mrs. Thomas smiled broadly; "Miss Glynn, of course! She's
made to order. The girl has her way to make. She's been rather overdoing
lately. I don't like the look in her eyes at times. She never asks for
sympathy or consideration, you understand, but she makes every woman, and
man, too, judging by that rich cripple, Mr. Boswell, yearn over her.
She'd be the merriest soul on earth, with half a chance, and she's the
most capable girl I have: ready for an emergency; never weary. Why, of
course, Miss Glynn!"

"I'll speak to Doctor Ledyard to-night," said Travers.

Then, strangely enough, Travers realized that he was very tired. He
excused himself, and, walking back through the dim city streets to the
Ledyard home, he thought of Kenmore and the old lodge as he had not for
years.

"I believe I'll run up there this summer," he muttered half aloud. "I'll
take mother and urge Doctor Ledyard to join us. I would like to see how
far I've travelled from the In-Place in--why it's years and years! All
the way from boyhood to manhood."

But Ledyard changed the