“I’m not goin’ to tell you.” Betsy spoke deliberately. “Rosalie’s got to make her own way in the world. Mr. Derwent knows that outside appearances count for a lot in her line o’ business, and he’s givin’ her this outfit, just as he’d give a boy a little capital to start him. She’s goin’ to try an experiment, and I ain’t goin’ to say anything about it. It’s an idea o’ my own, and if it turns out all right, I’ll believe my good angel put it into my head; but if folks like you—young men—play the fool, it won’t turn out well; and then I’ll know it was a caper o’ my bad angel. You needn’t scowl and look as if you’d eat up any other man who looks at her. You’re the one o’ the lot I’m most afraid of, and you’re very likely to see her.” Irving sprang to his feet as if he had been shot. “Betsy, have you—is it possible—” he nearly choked in his excitement—“have you found her some place on the stage—vaudeville?” Miss Foster, after her first jump, swallowed, and looked at him in exasperation. “Will you sit down and not scare a body into a fit?” “Have you, I say!” he demanded fiercely. “I’ll see Derwent to-night if he’s had anything to do with this.” “For the land’s sake, Irving Bruce, you’re actin’ like a natural-born fool—but I love you for it!” The gray eyes sparkled. “Sit down on this bench.” He obeyed, but his eyes still devoured her. “I can’t leave Mrs. Bruce, can I? If Rosalie went on the stage I’d have to go with her, wouldn’t I? Do act as if you had some common sense.” “You frightened me,” said Irving. “Well, you nearly gave _me_ heart disease.” Irving did not smile. His expression made it difficult for his companion to proceed; but there was no time like the present. She seldom had opportunity to talk with the young man alone, and Robert was amusing his hostess on the porch. “As I said a minute ago, Mr. Irving, you’re a generous boy, and always were. You’re likely to see Rosalie Vincent sooner or later, and you’ll be put to the test. You know in your inmost heart that you don’t care a thing about her except the way you would a pretty picture, or statue, that you’d come across. You don’t know her at all in the first place, so any attention you pay her would be just for your own selfish fun, and you’ve said so much to me about her, that I’m afraid you _will_ seek her if you get the chance—just for her beauty, poor child.” Irving’s thoughts had flown back to the canyon, and a train of memories stirred him. “She will attract a great many besides me,” he said. “If there’s ever any need of shielding her, I sha’n’t stand aside, you may be sure.”