At the door stood the great touring car which Beth had never seen before. It was painted a dark mulberry color, to correspond with the Cortlandt livery. Léon Charette was in his place, ready to start. Beside him sat the footman who accompanied the coachmen when the horses were used, both in their mulberry coats, looking exceedingly correct. Anna Mary was still stowing away luggage and luncheon hampers in their places in the car. Alys made Beth get into it with her to be shown the thermos bottles, the mirror, the toilet case, all the appointments of this truly magnificent car. “I thought all the stunning me was done,” said Beth. “But this car is just as wonderful as the house.” She jumped out and ran back, for there was Miss Deland, smiling, with a book in her hand. “I ordered this for you, but it had not come yesterday, little Beth,” she said. Beth looked at it; it was a beautiful copy of old Mallory’s “Morte d’Arthur.” “Because you are such a little bundle of olden time romance,” smiled Miss Deland. “Good-bye, little pupil, and don’t forget to love the teacher that never had a chance to teach you much; you’ve been such a butterfly in New York this winter!” Aunt Alida wore brown; her long coat, close bonnet and veil and gloves were almost one in color with her dark eyes and hair. Natalie wore invisible green, Alys a lighter shade, Dirk looked almost professional in Norfolk tweeds and goggles, a small but close imitation of his handsome father. Anna Mary was to be taken; she looked just as she had when she had come for Beth, a long, severe shiny figure in black. Mrs. Cortlandt and the three girls were to sit in the back; Mr. Cortlandt, Dirk and Anna Mary were occupants of the middle seats. Léon started the car; it obeyed readily, and slowly rolled away. Beth looked back. There were dear Mrs. Hodgman, who had cried when she kissed Beth good-bye and said: “Good-bye, little sunshine!” And there were Frieda, Miss Deland--and the house. Beth waved to them all, equally, and was gone! It was a long drive to the small town where Aunt Rebecca lived, but Mr. Cortlandt was to take it easily. Beth found it thrilling to say: “Now we are in New York State.” “Now we have crossed the Connecticut line.” It seemed a great thing to her to be an interstate traveler! The party stopped for the night at a good hotel and Beth keenly enjoyed the novelty. Never before had she been a guest in a hotel; she had a sense of rapidly becoming a citizen of the great world. In the morning they took their places in the car again and rolled on, through country so beautiful that Beth could not contain herself. “New England is lovely, isn’t it, Uncle Jim?” she said proudly. “‘Land of the Pilgrims’ pride,’ you know. I’m proud of it, too. I can’t help being glad I was born here.”