"No; I never was generous in my life. I do not know how to be generous. But this is the way it is: I am rich; I want a companion; and I like _you_. Your voice supports mine perfectly, and is not in the least too loud--a thing I detest. Besides, we look well together. You are an excellent background for me; you make me look poetic; whereas most women make me look like a caricature of myself--of what I really am. As though a straw-bug should go out walking with a very attenuated grasshopper. Now if the straw-bug went out always with a plump young toad or wood-turtle, people might be found to admire even _his_ hair-like fineness of limb and yellow transparency, by force, you know, of contrast." Anne laughed; but there was also a slight change of expression in her face. "I can read you, Crystal," said Helen, laughing in her turn. "Old Katharine has already told you all those things--sweet old lady! She understands me so well! Come; call it selfishness or generosity, as you please; but accept." "It is generosity, Helen; which, however, I must decline." "It must be very inconvenient to be so conscientious," said Mrs. Lorrington. "But mind, I do not give it up. What! lose so good a listener as you are? To whom, then, can I confide the latest particulars respecting the Poet, the Bishop, the Knight-errant, and the Haunted Man?" "I like the Bishop," said Anne, smiling back at her friend. She had acquired the idea, without words, that Helen liked him also. The story of Miss Vanhorn's change was, of course, related to Tante: Anne had great confidence both in the old Frenchwoman's kindness of heart and excellent judgment. Tante listened, asked a question or two, and then said: "Yes, yes, I see. For the present, nothing more can be done. She will allow you to finish your year here, and as the time is of value to you, you shall continue your studies through the vacation. But not at my New Jersey farm, as she supposes; at a better place than that. You shall go to Pitre." "A place, Tante?" "No; a friend of mine, and a woman." Mademoiselle Jeanne-Armande Pitre was not so old as Tante (Tante had friends of all ages); she was about fifty, but conveyed the impression of never having been young. "She is an excellent teacher," continued the other Frenchwoman, "and so closely avaricious that she will be glad to take you even for the small sum you will pay. She is employed in a Western seminary somewhere, but always returns to this little house of hers for the summer vacation. Your opportunity for study with her will be excellent; she has a rage for study. Write and tell your grandaunt, ma fille, what I have decided." "Ma fille" wrote; but Miss Vanhorn made no reply.