Dawn went smiling down the parsonage path. It seemed to her the larkspurs had grown bluer and the verbenas pinker since she came up a few minutes before, and her feet fairly danced down the street, she was so happy over her good fortune. It was like a beautiful story, the way it was turning out. She had no apprehensions about her ability to handle the village school, for she had had no experience of what bad boys could be; so there was nothing to cloud her bright day, save now and then a brief pang of longing for Charles. For the most part, her mind was too much filled with anticipation of the morrow to have room for thoughts of the past. She went to the Golden Swan, and told Mrs. Gillette that she was to remain there for a few days at least, then she found the village store and made a few simple purchases, among them needles, thread, and a thimble. Then she chose material for an apron, and hurried home to make it. The school-teachers she had known had always worn aprons. They were a badge of office. But the apron she made was not like Friend Ruth’s. It was small and coquettish, and edged with a tiny ruffle. Dawn knew how to sew beautifully, for that had been one of the accomplishments Friend Ruth required of all her pupils. With a pair of borrowed scissors, the young girl fashioned the garment, and cut the tiny ruffles, rolling the hems as she had been taught to do, and scratching the gathers scientifically. By night she had a dainty little apron ready to wear to school. It was a frivolous bit of a thing, but it filled her with delight, for it was such an apron as she had always desired, but had not been allowed to have while in school. Simplicity held sway where Friend Ruth ruled. At the supper table it was whispered around that a new school-teacher had come to town. There were notices up at the corners and all the cross-roads. School was to "take up" on the morrow. Some of the people at the table looked suspiciously at the pretty young stranger sitting demurely by herself at the end of the table, and wondered if she were the new teacher, but others said no, she was entirely too young. After supper Dawn went to the big book wherein were registered the names of the guests, and wrote down "Mary Montgomery" in a clear, round hand. Mr. Gillette watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye. As he saw her about to turn away, he said gruffly: "Put down the place. We like to know where our folks belongs." "Oh!" said Dawn, a pink flush stealing into her cheek. What should she put? Then, quick as a flash, she thought, "I have adopted a name—why should I not adopt a home, too? I am on my way to New York. If I do not remain here, I shall go there—if I can get there. I will choose New York for my home. It is a large place, and no one will expect me to know every one there. Besides, it will also stand for New York State."