"Now, Florence, that isn't fair to me. I really don't mean to be just a silly girl who thinks of nothing but her clothes. I shall have to go into society, but I believe I can be good for a little something besides that. If I find I can't do both, why, then I'll give up the society part of it; but I won't be a do-nothing all my days. I know there are always more chances for a woman to do good than there are women to do it, and I mean to keep my eyes open to look for my own especial chance. I don't believe that all the helpful ideas auntie and Mrs. Adams have given me this year were intended to be thrown away, and I think the time will come when I can use them. If not, why were they given me? Wait a few years, Florence, and see if I am just a butterfly. It is only fair to give me the chance to win my spurs." Katharine spoke earnestly, for her whole soul was in her words. The past year had been a revelation to her, and her rapid development towards womanhood had been in the line of all that was truest and noblest in her character. She had come to New England an unformed girl whose nature was one of endless possibilities, only waiting for the word which should make them actual and turn her in one way or the other. The word was spoken and, thanks to her aunt's influence and to her association with the simple, natural girls about her, the impulse given was in the right direction. It was as if Katharine had suddenly been born into a new life. No drifting, idle maturity could satisfy her now; her womanhood must be one of purpose and of action. The time for it had come much nearer than she thought. But now her little outburst was followed by a hearty,-- "Good for you, Kit!" Both the girls started and looked up, to see Alan's head stretched out from his window, with a look of perfect approval on his boyish face. "I didn't mean to listen," he said penitently. "I was up here reading and, honestly, I didn't hear a thing but Kit's last speech. That was such a good one that I did just want to pat her on the back. I'm going to stop up my ears now." "Come down, and stay with us, Alan," his cousin, said. "No, thanks; not even you can bribe me to leave this book. I want to know what they found in the bottom of the cave." And Alan returned to his reading. However, the unexpected interruption had put an end to all serious talk, and the girls were chatting idly, now of this matter, now of that, when a boy stepped up on the piazza. He had a telegram in his hand. "Miss Katharine W. Shepard?" he asked, referring to his address book. Katharine rose, dropping the kitten on the floor. "I am Miss Shepard," she said, taking the envelope from his hand and signing the receipt. "I hope nothing is wrong," said Florence, eyeing the yellow paper with a true feminine dislike of a telegram. "Wrong? Oh, no; it is probably from papa. He often telegraphs us," said Katharine carelessly, as she tore open the end of the envelope.