areer. Jack is really
going back to the office the first of September for a part of every day,
at quite a respectable salary considering the length of time he will
work. He's too valuable a man to the company for them to part with. As
for me, I'm _sure_ something else will turn up as soon as my work for
Professor Carnes comes to an end. We Wares can look back over so many
_Eben-Ezers_ raised to mark some special time when Providence came to
our rescue, that we have no right ever to be discouraged again.
Professor Carnes is my last one, though nobody would be more astonished
than he to know that he is regarded in the light of an old Israelitish
Memorial stone. You will not have such frequent letters from me after
this, as I shall be so busy. But Jack says he will attend to my
correspondence. He is beginning to write a little every day. Yesterday
he wrote to Betty. He has enjoyed her letters so much, telling about
her lovely time up in the Maine woods. I am so glad you are to have a
vacation, too. So no more at present from your happy little sister."

Like all people who are limited to one hobby, and who pursue one line of
study for years regardless of other interests, Professor Carnes took
little notice of anything outside of his especial work. If Mary had been
a new kind of bug he would have studied her with profound interest,
spending days in learning her peculiarities, and sparing no pains in
classifying her and assigning her to the place she occupied in the great
plan of creation. But being only a human being she attracted his
attention only so far as she contributed to the success of his work.

He would go tramping through the woods wherever she led, only vaguely
aware of the fact that she had enlisted half a dozen small boys in her
service, and that she was turning them into enthusiastic young
naturalists before his very eyes. She was not doing this consciously,
however. Her motive for inviting them on these expeditions, was simply
to include Norman and his friends in her own enjoyment of the summer
woods. It was so easy to turn each excursion into a picnic, to build a
fire near some spring and set out a simple lunch that seemed a feast of
the gods to voracious boyish appetites.

The goodly smell of corn, roasting in the ashes, or fresh fish sizzling
on hot stones gave a charm to the learning of wood-lore that it never
could have possessed otherwise. At first with the heedlessness of
city-bred boys, they crashed