“Thanks, Madama. I’ve been drying Betsy’s tears all the morning shed for the loss of her blonde heaver; and I just discovered her, that’s all. You’ll excuse me, won’t you?” Mrs. Bruce peered near-sightedly down the hall, but saw nothing nearly so interesting as her soup, so returned to it. Betsy waited for Irving’s next words, expecting they might be of recognition; but he went on eating, as he added:— “You’d better make it a point to see her, this trip, and tell her to try her hand at a pathetic tale for the Maiden’s Home Companion!” Betsy gave a one-sided smile of relief. “Mrs. Bruce, you indulged this young man too much a spell back. He’d ought to been disciplined ’fore ’twas too late.” “That from you!” returned Mrs. Bruce complacently. “You never wanted me even to contradict him.” After dinner the men of the party put the four women into a wagon, whose driver was warranted to let Mrs. Bruce lose nothing which could be seen and heard in one afternoon, and started off for a tramp. Their first pause was at the exquisite liquid flower known as the Morning Glory Pool. The wondrous color and shape of this spring held them long. Some one, either with a wish to test its depth, or desiring to furnish the blue morning glory with a pistil, had dropped a stick into its centre. Irving smiled at his own thoughts. “The driver is lucky if Madama doesn’t make him get out and fish for that stick,” he thought. After their ramble of an hour the friends halted near the Riverside Geyser, where the gathering crowd indicated that it would soon spout. In moving about for desirable points of vantage, Mr. Derwent and Robert Nixon became separated from Irving, who from his greater height was satisfied with his position behind a knot of persons on the river bank. Among them was a young girl with her back to him. She was bareheaded and wore a white gown. Irving looked twice idly at her because her hair was pretty, and then noticed that a couple of soldiers, off duty, spoke to her and that she tried to repel them. “Come now, Goldilocks,” said one of them ingratiatingly, in his hoarse voice, “wasn’t I introduced to you all right at Norris? Don’t be stuck up.” He came closer, with open admiration. The girl made some soft reply, then turned, and there was no mistaking the look, half of annoyance and half of fear, in her childlike face. Irving stepped forward instinctively, and recognized Betsy’s friend. He had noticed in the dining-room that the girl bore a resemblance to some one he had seen, but he had not been able to locate it. “O Mr. Bruce!” she ejaculated involuntarily, coming nearer as if for protection. The soldiers saw him lift his hat, and fell back. “Rosalie—Miss Vincent—is it you?” said Irving, all Betsy’s interest and concern explained in a flash.