e next Saturday.
Belle had a bitter complaint.

"She sat there the whole afternoon yesterday and part of the evening,
writing and rewriting a letter before my very eyes. 'Are you replying to
Will Axworthy?' I asked quite cordially, for I did want to have a hand
in answering that letter--had some cutting sentences all ready for him.
'Yes, mawm,' said she very shortly; 'but I guess I can manage to get
along by myself.'"

I did not dare own up to the advice I had given, but I saw that matters
must be hastened. Having business in Chicago about that time, I visited
almost every hospital in the city, telling Mary's story in my most
dramatic newspaper style. I made it understood that it was very noble
and self-sacrificing of the young woman, when she might live in the lap
of luxury,--for thus did I unblushingly describe my own modest
establishment,--to embrace a nurse's vocation and labor for the good of
humanity, including herself, of course. The education--or the lack of
it--was the drawback everywhere, and also the youth of the applicant,
twenty-five being a more acceptable age than barely twenty-one.

But my perseverance was at last rewarded by finding the superintendent
of a training school who still had some imagination left, and who became
deeply interested in Mary's "tale of woe."

"Make her study her reading, spelling, and arithmetic as hard as she
can for the next few months, and I'll get her in the very first
opening."

The prospect roused Belle's old-time vigor, and she had spelling matches
for Mary's benefit, made the girl read aloud to her, gave her dictation
to write, and heard her the multiplication tables every forenoon--when
she did not forget.

One delightful morning in October I had the honor of taking our
_protegee_ into Chicago and delivering her up to the lady
superintendent. If she could only stand the month of probation, we
flattered ourselves that she would be safe.

Three weeks later I met the Rev. Mr. Armstrong on the street.

"I think it is only right to tell you what people are saying," said he.

"It's my business to know," I replied.

"I mean about your adopted daughter. I have just been told by two
reputable parties, one after the other, that she has been dismissed from
the hospital for flirting, and that you and Mrs. Gemmell are hushing the
matter up as well as you can, but that you don't know at all where she
is."

When I reached home my first question was:

"Have you heard fro