“These are the people,” he said. “They are all in one party.” He called me aside and we sat down, he explaining cheerfully and volubly the trouble he was having keeping everything in order. I could have murdered him. “I’m looking out for the baggage and the hotel bills and all,” he insisted. “In the morning we’ll be met by a tally-ho and ride out to the hotel.” I was thinking of my splendid bevy of girls and the delightful time I had been having. “Well, that’ll be fine, won’t it?” I said wearily. “Is that all?” “Oh, we have it all planned out,” he went on. “It’s going to be a fine trip.” I did my best to show that I had no desire to talk, but still he kept on. He wanted to meet the teachers and I had to introduce him. Fortunately he became interested in one small group and I sidled away—only to find my original group considerably reduced. Some had gone to the dressingroom, others were arranging their parcels about their unmade berths. The porter came in and began to make them up. I looked ruefully about me. “Well, our little group has broken up,” I said at last to the girl of my choice as I came up to where she was sitting. “Yes. It’s getting late. But I’m not sleepy yet.” We dropped into an easy conversation, and I learned that she was from Missouri and taught in a little town not far from St. Louis. She explained to me how she had come to win, and I told her how ignorant I had been of the whole affair up to four days ago. She said that friends had bought hundreds of _Republics_ in order to get the coupons. It seemed a fine thing to me for a girl to be so popular. “You’ve never been to Chicago, then?” I asked. “Oh no. I’ve never been anywhere really. I’m just a simple country girl, you know. I’ve always wanted to go, though.” She fascinated me. She seemed so direct, truthful, sympathetic. “You’ll enjoy it,” I said. “It’s worth seeing. I was in Chicago when the Fair was being built. My home is there.” “Then you’ll stay with your home-folks, won’t you?” she asked, using a word for family to which I was not accustomed. It touched a chord of sympathy. I was not very much in touch with my family any more but the way she seemed to look on hers made me wish that I were. “Well, not exactly. They live over on the west side. I’ll go to see them, though.” I was thinking that now I had her out of that sparkling group she seemed more agreeable than before, much more interesting, more subdued and homelike. She arose to leave me. “I want to get some of my things before the porter puts them away,” she explained. I stepped out of her way. She tripped up the aisle and I looked after her, fascinated. Of a sudden she seemed quite the most interesting of all those here, simple, pretty, vigorous and with a kind of tact and grace that was impressive. Also I felt an intense something about her that was concealed by an air of supreme innocence and maidenly reserve. I went out to the smokingroom, where I sat alone looking out of the window.