"I wish--if you'd just as lief--you'd go back to your seat now," she said. "I--I never talked like that before to a stranger, and I ain't like you, you know. I've explained about the books. I studied them last night, but I don't think I hurt them any." "I guess you did them good," laughed Glory, brightly. "I expect to find an inspiration between the pages--why, actually, I feel a little bit (oh, a very little) of interest already in history. How delighted Aunt Hope would feel if she knew!--No, I'm not going back to my seat. Why, here's Centre Town! Did you ever see such a short ride! I've got to get off here, and I wish I hadn't--oh, dear! Good-by." Out on the platform Glory waved her books at the girlish face in the car window. The friendly little act sent the Other Girl on to the East Centre Town rubber factory with a warm spot in her heart. "She's splendid, Diantha Leavitt, but don't you go to presuming on that wave!" she said to herself, severely. "This minute I believe you're presuming! You're looking ahead to seeing her again to-night when you go home, and getting another wave--it's just like you. I know you! A little thing like that turns your head round on your shoulders!" A little thing! Was it a little thing to have beautiful, breezy Glory wave her books at you? To have her nod and smile up at your window? All day long the Other Girl smiled over her petty, distasteful work, and Glory's face crept in between her tasks and nodded at her in friendly fashion. She watched for it breathlessly at night, when the train stopped at Centre Town. And it was there on the platform; it came smiling into the car and stopped at her seat! By the time Little Douglas was reached the two girls were friends. "Auntie," Glory cried, dropping down by her aunt, "would you believe you could get to love anybody in two three-quarters of an hour? Well, I did to-day." And then she told her aunt of the girl in the sailor hat. "Her clothes were shabby--oh, terribly shabby. I thought her dreadful at first, till I found out--now I love her. You would, too." "And who is she really? What is her name?" "I don't know her name! Think of it, auntie, I love her and may be her name's Martha Jane! _I_ don't know. But I don't care--I shall keep right on liking her. And so will you, because she studies history because she likes it. _Likes_ it! Says she'd rather study it than not! It's a fact." "I love her!" exclaimed Aunt Hope, fervently, and then they both laughed. And Glory told all that she knew about the Other Girl. Aunt Hope smoothed Glory's hair. It was the way she did when she approved of things. "I like your new friend. I'm glad you left the books in the car," she said. "But there's more to the sad little story. It's to be continued, Glory. You must find out the other chapters. There will be plenty of time if you go back and forth together. And, dear, if you sit beside her in the car perhaps you will learn to love books, too."