"To tell the truth, it was your affairs that drove me to Chicago," she went on. "I don't mind your knowing now, deah. We can talk freely about things I couldn't discuss with you before. Of course, I always knew Katherine wanted you for Potter, and that they'd both do anything to get you. It began with her trying to keep other men away from you even on the ship. Do you remember? Nobody could get near you but Tom Doremus, and he wouldn't if Kath hadn't been afraid of Mrs. Van der Windt. It was just the same in Newport, whenever she could fix it so. I couldn't exactly warn you; it wouldn't have been nice. They _are_ my cousins, and I was Kath's guest--though I shouldn't have been for long, if I hadn't wanted to watch over you. But you know I did drop hints sometimes, didn't I? It wasn't my business if you'd fallen in love with Potter, but though he isn't a bad fellow, he's not good enough or strong enough for you, Betty, and I should have been mighty sick at heart if he had got you." "I never felt he wanted me, really," I said, "although he was always proposing." "Oh, yes, he did want you. Perhaps he wasn't truly in love at first, though he always admired you, deah. There was an actress that he was crazy about last winter--a nice girl, too, and he would have married her if it hadn't been for Katherine, who was _wild_ over it, said such a mesalliance in the family would ruin her as well as him, and contrived to break it off somehow. Potter never cared for anyone else so much. The girl seemed to understand his temper exactly, and though he was heart and soul for winning you, after the race was begun, I shouldn't wonder a bit--now he's lost you--if that affair didn't come on again some day. He might do worse." "I wish the girl joy of him," said I. "But how was it you went away from Newport?" "Oh, I told Kath what I thought of her for trying to trap you. It _was_ that, and nothing else. And she didn't like it. She almost asked me to go, and though I knew it was to get me out of the way, I had to do it. I wish you could have met Mrs. Hale in Chicago. She is the nicest, quaintest woman. You saw her happy family? Well, she's so kind-hearted that when her horses are out at grass, she has a big sunbonnet made for each one. You would laugh to see them prancing about with their bonnets flapping. And she stops cab horses in the street to give them sugar. But after all, it's better for you to be here--with the Trowbridges." "Mr. Brett has been a saint to me," said I. Sally smiled her three-cornered smile. "I think from what you tell me of some of the things you've said to him, and some of the things which have happened, that he _has_ been a saint--more of a saint than you know." "You mean I've tried his temper?" I asked anxiously. "Not exactly his temper. But never mind. I'll talk to you about myself now."