“I appreciate your kindness, Sam, but you ain’t goin’ to lose money by this plan. You know we are all pretty proud o’ the Inn. If Mrs. Bruce wasn’t she’d never a recommended it to the Nixons. They’re folks that are used to the best; and we’d like to see it have all the attractions any resort has. Mark my words, you’ll thank me for this, instead o’ me you, though I ain’t underratin’ your good feelin’. Good-by, Sam.” Clever Betsy left the place with a springing step. She found her mistress in a rather injured frame of mind when she reached the cottage. It wore upon the lady that the None-such was going to desert her post for two days. “That’s the worst of having a person like Betsy,” she thought; “one gets so dependent. It’s humiliating. I feel just like asking her not to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that.” So Mrs. Bruce compromised by being silent and wearing an abused air. “Once in a while Betsy will do a real selfish thing,” she reflected; and she demanded of memory to stand and deliver the last occasion when her housekeeper had displayed base ingratitude. Memory appearing to find the task difficult, she resorted to deep sighs and an ostentatious headache. Betsy was amused, but also somewhat touched. “She ain’t anything but a child, never was, and never will be,” she thought. “You can’t get out of a barrel what ain’t in it.” She told her mistress of the pleasant rooms at the inn available because of having suddenly been given up by their usual occupants. “I’ll go see Mrs. Nixon and tell her about ’em,” she added. “Mr. Beebe’s promised to hold ’em till Wednesday.” Mrs. Bruce put her hand to her forehead, but apparently was too far gone, sunk among her cushions, to reply. “I think it would be real nice for you to do a lot o’ sailin’ while I’m gone,” said Betsy cheerfully. “That’s just about as considerate as you are!” returned Mrs. Bruce, with remarkable fire for one in the languorous stage of headache. “You know very well that at the best of times I don’t care very much for sailing.” “I thought with Mr. Irving and Cap’n Salter both, you felt real safe, and enjoyed it,” said Betsey pacifically; and Mrs. Bruce had sundry disconcerting memories of hiking hilariously with her hand on her boy’s shoulder. “Don’t you suppose,” she said with a superior air, “that I ever make a pretense of enjoying things for Irving’s sake?” Betsy’s lips twitched. “You acted so natural you took me in,” she returned meekly. Mrs. Bruce sank back again among her pillows. “I’ll make out a list for all the meals while I’m gone,” said Betsy comfortingly, “and give it to the cook. You see, Mrs. Bruce, one o’ my friends that’s lived in the country and is very inexperienced, wants to get a few clothes in the city. She don’t know where to go or what to pay, and I told her I’d come in for a couple o’ days and help her. You won’t scarcely miss me before I’m back.”