f course, came tales of camping, and, most animatedly, the story
of Eleanor's wonderful rescue of Maurice.

"She pulled that great big Maurice all the way down to Doctor Bennett's!
And we were all so proud of her!"

Eleanor protested: "It was nothing at all." Maurice, in his own mind,
was saying, "I wish she'd left me there!"

When the ladies left the gentlemen to their cigars, Edith was bubbling
over with anxiety to confide to Mrs. Morton the joke about the "lady's
cheeks coming off," and that gave the married women the chance to
express melancholy convictions as to the wickedness of the world, to
which Edith listened with much interest.

"I think my painted lady lives in Medfield," she said.

"Why, how do you know?" Eleanor exclaimed, surprised.

"Why, don't you remember the time I saw her, with that blue-eyed baby?
She was just going into a house on Maple Street."

It was at this moment that the gentlemen entered, so there was no
further talk of painted ladies; and, besides, Maurice was alert to catch
Eleanor's eye, and go home! "Edith is capable of saying anything!" he
was thinking, desperately.

However, Edith said nothing alarming, and Maurice was able to get her
safely away from the powder magazine in the shape of the amiable doctor,
who, following them a few minutes later, was saying to himself: "How
scared he was! Yet he looks like a good fellow at bottom. A rum world--a
rum world!"

The "good fellow" hurried his womenkind down the street in angry
preoccupation. As soon as he and Eleanor were alone, he said, "When does
Edith graduate?"

"She has two years more."

"Oh, _Lord_!" Maurice said, despairingly; "has she got to be around for
two years?" Eleanor's face lightened, but Maurice was instantly
repentant. "I ought to be ashamed of myself for saying that! Edith's
fine; and she has brains; but--"

"She monopolized the conversation to-night," Eleanor said; "Maurice, it
is very improper for her to keep talking all the time about that horrid
woman!"

The sharpness of his agreement made her look at him in surprise. "She
_mustn't_ talk about Mrs. Dale!" he said, angrily.

"Dale? Is that her name?" said Eleanor.

"I don't know. I think so; didn't Edith call her that? Well, anyway, she
mustn't keep talking about her!"

His irritation was so marked, that Eleanor's heart warmed; but she said,
wearily, "I'll be glad myself when she graduates."

CHAPTER XVII

Edith, reflecting upon her firs