“Because Mrs. Bruce helped me so much, and meant me to do something so different. She gave me a course in English in the fine school at Lambeth, and she had a right to expect I would be teaching, and doing her kindness credit.” “Time enough for that in the fall, I should think.” “But I haven’t any position. I had no way to—to live until—I could get one.” The speaker averted her face, not so quickly but that Irving saw the blue eyes were swimming. Had Rosalie been the most artful of girls she could not have planned words and actions more effective to win the championship of Mrs. Bruce’s son, knowing as he did the history of her flight. “I met Mrs. Pogram a few weeks ago in Fairport,” he replied. “She told me of her loss of you.” Rosalie did not speak. She furtively wiped her eyes. “Does Mrs. Pogram know where you are?” “No. It seems unkind, for I know she is fond of me; but I promised her that if I were in any trouble I would write her; and if she knew where I was, her brother would know, and I—I can’t endure him!” The girl finished with a flash of energy. “You show faultless taste,” returned Irving. “Don’t be afraid of Mrs. Bruce. She won’t expect you to be teaching English in the Yellowstone.” “They have an English of their own,” returned Rosalie. “Probably if you knew what I am, you wouldn’t be talking to me as if I were a summer girl.” Her faint smile suddenly shone upon him, for she felt he meant to placate Mrs. Bruce. Irving laughed. “I do know something of the Park lingo. You’re taking another course in English, that’s all.” “Yes, I am.” Rosalie suddenly thought of Miss Hickey and wondered what that young person would say if clairvoyance could show her this picture on the river bank. “What are your plans, if it’s a fair question?” Irving asked. “I haven’t any, Mr. Bruce.” Again the anxious look in the blue eyes. “Of course, I finish the season in the Park. If I don’t, I forfeit my expenses being paid to return.” “Did they bring you ’way from Portland?” “No, from Chicago.” “Ah!” Irving raised his eyebrows, but asked no question. “You mustn’t let us lose sight of you,” he added. “That’s very kind. What I have felt was that I mustn’t let you catch sight of me,” returned the girl naïvely. “I wasn’t afraid of you, Mr. Bruce, for I didn’t think you’d remember me at all; and—I do so appreciate your kindness.” Irving looked at her with considering eyes. Her half-timid, half-respectful manner was novel, and the little burst of gratitude with which she finished was most agreeable. He recalled that Betsy had said that this girl, apparently so alone in the world, had been born and reared in luxury. With the eye of a connoisseur he regarded her now, and pictured what a triumphant march her girlhood would have been had she remained in the class of Fortune’s favorites.