While she sat there she observed Betsy and Rosalie returning to the hotel, and her eyes narrowed as she regarded the girl’s tall slender figure and free carriage. “It is no wonder I was attracted,” she thought; and now that the case had come before her again, and she had time to consider that her beneficiary had inflicted upon her a disappointment, Rosalie’s proved incapacity took on the proportions of ingratitude. With Mrs. Bruce, even to suspect that her will was being thwarted was misery, and her gaze rested coldly on the girl now. At the same moment Irving and Robert came in sight; and Mrs. Bruce resented the fact that they hastened to approach Betsy, as she paused to say good-by to her companion. The four stood a moment talking, and as Rosalie withdrew from the group Mrs. Bruce watched Irving follow her a few steps and then lift his hat as the girl shook her head and hurried away. Robert, whistling loudly, ran up the steps of the hotel, and Mrs. Bruce scarcely nodded in response to his cheerful greeting as he went into the house. She rose from her chair. “See the people going out there,” she said to Irving, as he and Betsy approached. “I thought you would never come!” “Five minutes’ grace, Madama,” said Irving, looking at his watch. “Don’t get nervous.” Betsy started to go into the house. Irving caught her by the arm. “Not a bit of it,” he added. “You’re going with us.” “Thank you, Mr. Irving. I meant to go out later,” returned Betsy, always conscious of “acquiring merit” by leaving these two by themselves. “I wouldn’t trust you—I wouldn’t trust you around the corner,” returned Irving; and he kept his hold on the sleeve of Betsy’s brown silk shirt-waist, so the three moved together out to the point of interest. The Old Faithful has been talked about, written about, and visited so much and so long, that there remains nothing fresh to be said; but it is like any other classic,—perennial, exhilarating, and satisfying. Mrs. Bruce, despite the fly in her amber, approached the mound of geyserite with lively anticipation, and watched with absorption the first spasmodic spurts that were flung from the crater’s mouth. Later, when the splendid volume of hot water sprang skyward, she and Betsy both forgot that there was a bone of contention between them. For minutes the rushing giant fountain, falling in a cloud of foam and spray, held itself against the azure sky; then, like a beautiful captive returning to its dungeon, fell back lower and lower, till only its tears coursed down the terraces they had formed, and lay in shallow basins, whose lovely tints they did not conceal. Mrs. Bruce, feeling that she could suggest nothing that would improve this glorious ebullition, confined herself to exclamations.