"Wait," the Other Girl said quickly, "I hate to waste a minute, but I've got to say something. I want you to know what it may mean if you do this for me. It may mean luxuries for my sick mother and--a chance for my little 'Tiny Tim.' Do you know, my teachers said if I could only keep on I might get a place to teach. Think of it! Do you know, some doctors told mother once that there was a little chance of straightening Timmie's bad leg, if we had the money. Oh, do you know this _may_ mean things like that! Do you think I'm not thankful to you?" The impetuous words flowed out in a hurried stream, and the eyes of the Other Girl, as they looked into Glory's, shone through a dazzle of happy tears. For a moment after the eager voice ceased neither girl made a sound. Then it was Glory who spoke. "Why!" she cried with a long breath, "Why, I didn't know it could mean anything like that! I thought it would just mean getting a little learning. I didn't know there were things like that at the other end of it." Glory had lived a little less than sixteen years, but they had been "different" from the years the Other Girl had lived. Aunt Hope had been all the suffering she had ever seen--Aunt Hope, smiling and brave, on her silken pillows. Until that sad little story the other night, she had scarcely connected anything sorrowful or hard to bear with Aunt Hope. The beautiful autumn weeks multiplied to months, and Glory's plan prospered thriftily. The lessons went on steadily through the morning and afternoon rides. The Other Girl's face was set toward a possible, splendid time to come; Glory's was set toward patience and gentleness. For it was not always easy to give up the hour and a half each day to the distasteful work that she so cordially hated. At first, I mean; strangely enough, after a while things changed. Glory woke up one day to find herself keenly interested in a knotty problem. She could hardly wait to get her head beside the Other Girl's, to see if together they could not solve it. "Think of it, auntie! Is it me, or am I somebody else?" she laughed, hurrying in to kiss Aunt Hope good-by. "Think of _me_ in a hurry to get an answer to a problem!" "Yes, it's you, dear. It's Glory Glorified!" laughed back the sweet voice. Then she drew the girl's bright head down beside her. "It's gone, dear. The Ambition out of my heart. It's passed to somebody else--to you, I think, Glory--yes, I'm confident! You've got it this minute!" And Glory understood. She went away wondering if it could be true that she, Gloria Wetherell, had a real ambition in life. "Auntie hasn't called me Disappointment for a long time," she mused happily, as she sped down the frosty street with the nip of keen air on her cheeks and the tonic of it in her lungs. Her mind hurried back to the knotty problem. She and the Other Girl were still at work on it that night, coming home. It happened that it had not been taken up in the recitation that day.