“No, the other people. Do you remember the deaf gentleman with gray hair?” “No, I don’t, Blue-eyes.” Miss Hickey spoke sharply. “The grayer they are, the worse they are. That’s _my_ experience.” “Oh, he’s so good!” exclaimed Rosalie, “and he is a friend of my father’s, and he wants to help me.” “Well, I hope he does. How’s that grand young feller, Mr. Bruce. Seen him lately?” “Yes, I’ve seen them all. They’re enjoying the Park. How have you been, Miss Hickey? I can’t realize it’s only a few days since I saw you. It seems years.” “Oh, I’ve been busier’n a nest o’ snakes, doin’ nothin’. Been laid up most ever since you were here.” “I’m afraid the Swattie ball was too much,” returned Rosalie, smiling; “and I’m sorry, so sorry!” She put out her hand. “I didn’t want to go without seeing you again,” she went on, giving Miss Hickey’s a tight pressure. “I shall always remember you gratefully.” “Well, I’m glad to see you too; and see you in so much luck. I hope it’s all right.” The black-eyed girl spoke doubtfully. “The rightest thing in the world,” returned Rosalie; and black eyes, no matter how sophisticated, could not meet hers and doubt it. “You’re goin’ right on to the Mammoth?” inquired Miss Hickey. “Yes, and leave there to-night.” “Ain’t you the grand lady! What’s your hurry?” “Why,” Rosalie smiled mischievously, “those other people—the ones I was afraid of—will be here to-morrow.” “Hot on your trail, eh?” said the other. “Well, you’re a galoot to go alone, when you might be in the stage with Mr. Bruce. If he’s comin’ here to-morrow I’ll be on the watch for him, believe _me_!” There were showers of rain and hail all the afternoon while Rosalie coached to the Mammoth Hot Springs. When the girl saw again the veranda where she had trembled behind Miss Hickey’s shoulder, it seemed to her that a magic wand had transformed her life; and so it was. All the way she found her path smoothed by the forethought of her benefactor; and the long journey to Boston was made with no consciousness of care or tedium. The newly-fledged, exultant heiress left behind at the Colonial Hotel little knew that the famous lawyer through whom her own fortune had found its rightful owner had bestowed still greater relief and courage upon her humble school friend. Clever Betsy kept her poise admirably. She did not approach Mr. Derwent, nor ask him a question. When the party returned to Norris they little suspected how a pair of black eyes in the dining-room were, in Miss Hickey’s vernacular, “sizing them up.” Had burning glances visible effect, Mr. Derwent’s scrupulously brushed head would have shown several bald spots. The examination was on the whole satisfactory, and, joyous to relate, Miss Hickey succeeded in waiting upon Irving Bruce. He came to luncheon a little late, and thus sat away from his party. As he ate his dessert, to his surprise the waitress lingering beside his chair opened her lips and spoke.