hem. But being wise young
women, they restrained their natural inquisitiveness, and asked no
questions then.

In the meanwhile Grant, who watched them until the last glimpse of their
light dresses was lost in the crowd, stood beside the second emigrant
train vacantly glancing at the aliens who thronged about it. His bronzed
face was a trifle weary, and his lips were set, but at last he
straightened his shoulders with a little resolute movement and turned
away.

"I have my work," he said, "and it's going to be quite enough for me."

II

HETTY TAKES HEED

It was evening when Hetty Torrance sat alone in a room of Mrs. Schuyler's
house at Hastings-on-the-Hudson. The room was pretty, though its adornment
was garish and somewhat miscellaneous, consisting as it did of the
trophies of Miss Schuyler's European tour. A Parisian clock, rich in
gilded scroll work to the verge of barbarity, contrasted with the artistic
severity of one or two good Italian marbles, while these in turn stood
quaintly upon choice examples of time-mellowed English cabinet-work. There
was taste in them all, but they suffered from the juxtaposition, which,
however, was somewhat characteristic of the country. Still, Miss Schuyler
had not spoiled the splendid parquetrie floor of American timber.

The windows were open wide, and when a little breeze from the darkening
river came up across the lawn, Hetty languidly raised her head. The
coolness was grateful, the silken cushions she reclined amidst luxurious,
but the girl's eyes grew thoughtful as they wandered round the room, for
that evening the suggestion of wealth in all she saw jarred upon her mood.
The great city lay not very far away, sweltering with its crowded tenement
houses under stifling heat; and she could picture the toilers who herded
there, gasping for air. Then her fancy fled further, following the long
emigrant train as it crawled west from side-track to side-track, close
packed with humanity that was much less cared for than her father's
cattle.

She had often before seen the dusty cars roll into a wayside depot to wait
until the luxurious limited passed, and the grimy faces at the windows,
pale and pinched, cunning, or coarsely brutal, after the fashion of their
kind, had roused no more than a passing pity. It was, however, different
that night, for Grant's words had roused her to thought, and she wondered
with a vague apprehension whether the tramp of weary feet she had list