e. He was immensely
pleased with it. I know, not only from what he wrote himself, but from
what mamma said. Yet his pleasure in getting it was not a circumstance
to mine in giving it. Not that I mean it will be that way about the New
York visit," she added hastily, seeing the amused twinkle in Betty's
eyes. "Oh, _you_ know what I mean," she cried in confusion. "That
usually it's that way, but in this case it will be a thousand times
blesseder to _receive_, and I never can thank you enough."

Throwing her arms around Betty's neck she planted an impetuous kiss on
each cheek and ran out of the room.

Part of that first check went to the photographer, for every one of the
fifteen Freshmen claimed a picture, and many of the Seniors who had
worshipped her from afar when they were Freshmen, and she the star of
the Senior class, begged the same favour. The one which fell to Mary's
share stood on her dressing-table several days and then disappeared. She
felt disloyal when some of the other girls who kept theirs prominently
displayed, came in and looked around inquiringly. She evaded their
questions but was moved to confess to Betty herself one day.

"I--I--sent your picture to Jack. Just for him to look at and send right
back, you know, but he won't send it, I hope you don't mind. He says he
needs it to keep him from forgetting what the ideal American girl is
like. They don't have them in Lone-Rock. There isn't any young society
there at all. And he was so interested in hearing about your literary
successes. You know he has always been interested in you ever since
Joyce came back from the first house-party and told us about you."

That Betty blushed when Mary proceeded to further confessions and quoted
Jack's remarks about her picture is not to be wondered at, and that Mary
should see the blush and promptly report it in her next letter to Jack
was quite as inevitable. She had no idea how many times during his busy
days his glance rested on the photograph on his desk.

It was not the typical American girl as portrayed by Gibson or Christy,
but it pleased him better in every way. He liked the sweet seriousness
of the smooth brows, the steady glance of the trustful brown eyes, and
the little laughter lines about the mouth. Back in God's country, he
sometimes mused, fellows knew girls like that. Played golf and tennis
with them, rode with them, picnicked with them, sat out in the moonlight
with them, talking and singing in a spi