After Elsie appeared Lilias--a vision of beauty and elegance, but far too grown-up and superior to care for the society of chits in the schoolroom. Her visit was a round of gaiety, for she did not care for quiet home evenings, but she never seemed really satisfied nor pleased, and there was always a "but" or an "if" at the end of her description of the last day's doings. Nan looked at her with troubled eyes, and her "Poor Lilias!" had a very different ring from the "Poor old Elsie!" which was after all only a pretence at pity. Cynthia's prophecy had been fulfilled, for at the end of January Betty had received from America a copy of the _New York Herald_, with the significant letter "R" printed on a corner of the wrapper. Her friend of the fog had evidently possessed himself of her full name and address before leaving town, and now wished her to know that he had safely reached the scene of his future labours. How carefully that wrapper was preserved! How diligently it was searched for further messages, long after it had been definitely concluded that no such message could exist! Betty considered the handwriting the most manly and distinctive that she had ever beheld; and Cynthia, without going so far, was still prepared to read in it all the desired meanings. "The letters are joined together; that means sequence of thought and mental ability. The line rises at the end; that shows proper ambition. There are power and success written in every stroke!" "Dear Cynthia!" sighed Betty ardently. "How clever you are! You are always right."