"Dr. Everett, I should like to know that girl. There are some things that I ought to say to her, and if I had a chance I would try to say them in a way to help her." "I will manage it," said Dr. Everett, speaking in a quick, relieved tone. He felt encouraged for Hester now, and greatly relieved about Gracie. She might be wounded, but she was made of the material of which he had hoped. She was not going to die herself, nor fold her hands and see others ruined, merely because she had been deceived. He bade her a cheery "Good-afternoon!" And drove away, feeling that, although he had been obliged to give up Sewell Alley, good work had been accomplished. He believed now that he understood the situation. He was right about one thing: Gracie Dennis had not the slightest idea of dying. Her mood was better expressed, half an hour later, when she stood at the parlour window, and returned a low, lingering bow from Professor Ellis, with a haughty stare from flashing eyes, looking out from an erect and motionless head. Dirk Colson's brain was in a whirl. He had an important question to settle. In his pocket were two blue tickets, promising to admit him to the largest and finest hall in the city to hear the great temperance orator. Dirk knew very little about orators, but he had heard of John B. Gough, and everything he had heard made him wish to have a glimpse of him. You will remember that Dirk was an imitator. He had heard that Mr. Gough was also, and down deep in his heart the boy had an ambition to hear the man. Now was his unexpected opportunity. Of course he was going, but the perplexing thing was, what to do with that other ticket. There was Mart! Oh yes, to be sure, he had not forgotten her; but what a strange thing it would be to take her to a lecture! He had never taken her anywhere in his life. She had nothing to wear, though he remembered at that moment that the mother had, by earnest effort, succeeded in getting her shawl out of pawn. There was one incentive for taking her; it would please Mrs. Roberts. Dirk studied the thing for some time, to try to discover why she should care, and had finally given up the problem as too great for him. Yet he was sure she cared; there had been a wistful light in her eyes when she said, "I thought possibly you might like to take that sister with the golden hair," that he saw and interpreted. It took him three days to decide what he should say, supposing he made up his mind to ask her. Several people were at work helping him, though he knew nothing about that. Mrs. Roberts remarked one evening to young Reid that she wished she knew a way to induce Dirk Colson to take his sister, without actually asking him to do so. She fancied that, besides the advantage which might possibly directly follow an evening spent in that way, it would suggest new thoughts to the brother.