gerly that something strange seemed to stir within
the quiet girl. It was almost as if she would have liked to express
her sympathy had she known how. And when the light suddenly died out
of the sparkling eyes and even the shadows of the dimples disappeared,
she felt almost at fault.

The other girl did not resent her want of sympathy, however.

"But he'll never, never consent," she went on mournfully, "because he's
an orthodox minister and I want to be an actress. Of course he
couldn't approve, and I ought not to blame him. And yet, if I wait
until I'm of age, I'll be too old. I'd like to run away right now, but
for the row it would make and for frightening auntie. Really, you
know, I'd rather join the circus than go to Enderby."

"But I have always understood that to be an actress one must go through
much that--isn't nice," remarked Elsie Marley in her colorless voice.

"Oh, but that's half the fun--the struggle against odds," exclaimed
Miss Moss with the assurance of untried youth. "Our class motto at the
high school was 'Per aspera ad astra.' Isn't that fine and inspiring?"

The other assented listlessly,

A breeze had arisen, and now, at a little distance from the track, the
air, though warm, was fresh and sweet. The yellowed grass extended to
the brilliant blue of the sky as far as the eye could reach. For the
first time, perhaps, in centuries, the plain was peopled by a throng;
for by now nearly every one in the long train had come out. Men stood
in groups discussing politics and the Mexican affair; women wandered
sedately about, most of them keeping a watchful eye upon the engine, as
if it might suddenly start and plunge on, dragging an empty train of
cars; children ran and frisked and shouted, making the most of the
occasion, as only children can. The two Elsies happened to be the only
young girls.

They had gone some little distance beyond the others. Failing to draw
out her companion, Elsie Moss took it for granted that she was shy, and
chatted on about her own affairs, hoping presently to effect an
exchange of confidences.

"I can't help wondering what my uncle will be like," she said soberly,
thrusting her hand into the pocket of her coat. "You see, I've never
seen him, though he and my mother were the greatest chums ever when
they were young--almost like twins, though he was heaps older. But
mother went to California when she married and I was born there, and
though he always meant