n education is dangerous; but there was no danger in the course at
Miss Sisson's. I want my money back."

"That you may invest it in dangerous literature?" laughed Wayne.

After he had gone Ann was standing at the window, looking down toward the
river. Suddenly she turned passionately upon Katie. "If you had ever had
anything to _do_ with danger--you might not be so anxious to find it."

She was trembling, and seemed close to tears. Katie felt it no time to
explain herself.

And when she spoke again the tears were in her voice. "I can't tell
you--when I begin to talk about it--" The tears were in her eyes, too,
then, and upon her cheeks. "You see--I can't--But, Katie--I want
_you_ to be safe. I want you to be _safe_. You don't know what it
means--to be safe."

With that she passed swiftly from her room.

Katie sat brooding over it for some time. "If you've been in danger," she
concluded, "you think it beautiful to be 'safe.' But if you've never been
anything but 'safe'--" Her smile finished that.

But Katie was more in earnest than her manner of treating herself might
indicate. To be safe seemed to mean being shielded from life. She had
always been shielded from life. And now she was beginning to feel that
that same shielding had kept her from knowledge of life, understanding of
it. Katie was disturbingly conscious of a great deal going on around her
that she knew nothing about. Ann wished her to be 'safe'; yet it was Ann
who had brought a dissatisfaction with that very safety. It was Ann had
stirred the vague feeling that perhaps the greatest danger of all was in
being too safe.

Katie felt an acute humiliation in the idea that she might be living in a
dangerous age and knowing nothing of the danger. She would rather brave
it than be ignorant of it. Indeed braving it was just what she was keen
for. But she could not brave it until she found it.

She would find it.

But the next afternoon she went over to the city with Ann and found
nothing more dangerous than a forlorn little stray dog.

It was evident that he had never belonged to anybody. It was written all
over his thin, squirming little yellow body that he was Nobody's
dog--written just as plainly as the name of Somebody's dog would be
written on a name-plate on a collar.

And it was written in his wistful little watery eyes, told by his
unconquerable tail, that with all his dog's heart he yearned to be
Somebody's dog.

So he thought he would try Mi