“Don’t worry,” returned Betsy dryly. “She’s short-sighted, and ten to one she won’t see you; and if she does, she probably won’t remember you.” “I may yet, you know,” said Rosalie eagerly, “I may yet reward her kindness; but I had no money, so I couldn’t stop to see about any school position; and besides, Loomis lives in Portland.” “Oh, don’t bother about him,” said Betsy carelessly. “One donkey more or less that you meet in the street isn’t goin’ to affect you. He’ll be busy wavin’ his long ears at Mrs. Pogram’s new help; for she’ll have to get somebody. I went to see her just before we left, and heard the whole story.” Rosalie laughed softly, and her eyes filled again. “O Betsy, it’s so long since I laughed!” she said; and her tone was so earnest and sad that Betsy averted her head and saw the scenery through a blur. “I was in the stage all this morning. It’s a wonder you didn’t feel how longingly I looked at the back of your head.” “You were?” asked Betsy, surprised. “Are you goin’ with us all the way?” “I don’t know. I may be left anywhere. I thought I had left you this time and hoped so, Betsy, because I was afraid of Mrs. Bruce; but oh, how glad I am now! for it’s such a comfort to see you, since you’re not angry with me.” “Not a bit,” replied Miss Foster, going to the length of patting the hand that held hers. “I would be, though, if you’d gone off and didn’t write me or let me know where you were; but you didn’t know that we were home.” “No. That’s why I was so startled to see you at the Hot Springs. I had thought I was thousands of miles from any one who knew me.” “I shan’t lose track of you again,” declared Betsy quietly. “O Betsy, do you care?” The girl drew closer to her neighbor’s angular shoulder. The expression in her lovely eyes disconcerted Betsy as she met it. “There isn’t any one else in the world to care. I’ve had lots of time since I left Chicago to think how alone I am, and I’ve been as disappointed in myself as Mrs. Bruce could be because I’m not brave about it. There have been moments at night when I was sorry, Loomis and all, that I ever left Fairport.” Betsy patted the hand again. “I do care, Rosalie. I won’t ask you to promise me, because if you need to be bound by a promise you don’t want me for a friend; but I tell you now that I expect you to keep in touch with me. I wish I could stay by you or keep you near me, but I can’t. I can, though, be some help to you perhaps, one way or another, and I’ll be glad to have you feel that way, and never get into a tight place without letting me know.” “I do promise, Betsy, so gratefully,” began Rosalie; and then Mr. Derwent turned around and met her eyes with a kind smile in his. He indicated a point in the woods. Rosalie looked and descried the spreading antlers of a deer, which stood bright-eyed and motionless in the shadow and watched the stage go by. Mr. Derwent had been the first to discover the animal, but soon everybody in the stage was alert.