rit of gay comradery that they
only half-appreciated, because they had never starved for want of it as
he was doing.

It hadn't been so bad at the Wigwam, for Joyce was always doing
something to keep things stirred up; making the most of the material at
hand. It wasn't that he minded the grind and the responsibility of his
work. He would gladly have shouldered more in his zeal to push ahead. It
was the thought that all work and no play was making him the proverbial
dull boy, and that he would be an old man before his time, if he went on
without anything to relieve the deadly monotony. The spirit of youth in
him was crying out for kindred companionship.

All unconscious of the interest she was arousing, Mary filled her
letters with reference to Betty; how they all adored her, and how she
was always in demand as a chaperon, because she was just a girl herself
and could understand how they felt and was such good fun. Presently
when word came that she had scored another triumph, that one of the
leading magazines had accepted a short story, Jack was moved to send her
a note of congratulation.

Now Jack had been as well known to Betty as she to him since the days of
the long-ago house-party. When he made his brief visit to The Locusts
just before she left for Warwick Hall, they had met like old friends,
each familiar with the other's past Unquestioningly she had accepted
Papa Jack's estimate of him as the squarest young fellow he had ever
met--"true blue in every particular, and a hustler when it comes to
bringing things to pass."

Now for five months Mary had talked of him so incessantly, especially
while they were visiting Joyce, that Betty had it impressed upon her
mind beyond forgetting, that no matter what else he might be he was
quite the best brother who had ever lived in the knowledge of man. In
answer to her cordial little note of acknowledgment came a letter
explaining in a frank straightforward way why he had kept her picture,
and how he longed sometimes for the friendships and social life he could
not have in a little mining-town. And because there was a question in it
about Mary, asking the advisability of her taking some extra course she
had mentioned, Betty answered it promptly.

Thus it came about without her realizing just how it happened, that she
was drawn into a regular correspondence. Regular on Jack's side, at
least, for no matter whether she wrote or not, promptly every Thursday
morning a familiar