“Same here,” replied Mabel promptly. “All my life I’ve been looking for an Ellen North, and to think I should have found her simply by putting my finger on a little spot on the map. Don’t tell me things just happen; they are ordered, arranged by Heaven, or they wouldn’t be so wonderful.” “So I believe. Do you suppose there are any more delightful things waiting for us around the corner?” “Or at the haunted house,” returned Mabel laughing. “That might be, of course. No place is so queer or so insignificant that it cannot hold the germ of a future joy, Mr. Todd says.” “What a dear old man he is. I’d like just such a friend, but they don’t seem to come my way. You are a lucky girl, Ellen.” “I believe I am in some directions. Certainly I have some wonderful friends, you, for instance.” “Thanks for the compliment; I can return it.” “I should think you would have the opportunity of making any kind of friend you wished,” said Ellen thoughtfully. “You don’t know how difficult it is. I scarcely ever meet any one who thinks my thoughts or likes my likes. If I do meet any one promising, he or she is whisked away before I have a chance for a better acquaintance. Of course I do know some perfectly dear people that I love dearly, but they can’t enter into my interests and ambitions. My dear grandmother thinks I am queer to want a career. She can’t see why I shouldn’t be satisfied with a butterfly existence. I live within sight of the Monument, which is a fact that settles my status, to her mind. I can sit at my window and watch the passers-by as they promenade after church, a great privilege, that. I can listen to all the latest gossip about those in my own set. I can go to the best shops and have intimate talks with Miss Maggie or Miss Jennie, who will advise me what to buy, and will serve me well because I am my grandmother’s granddaughter. I never have to soil my hands with menial work. I can entertain and be entertained, so what in the world is there left in life to wish for?” Mabel laughed a little bitterly. “Would that fill your life satisfactorily?” she asked earnestly. “Would clothes and fine food and foolish gossip make up the summum bonum of your existence?” “No, I am sure it wouldn’t, although I haven’t any large contempt for the fine clothes and food. I shall not disdain that lobster salad, for example.” Mabel laughed. “But you have your career all cut out for you, a talent to cultivate which is a gift the fairies did not bestow upon me.” “How do you know you haven’t a talent? What career appeals to you?”