If she felt any disappointment she failed to show it either in action or word, but went on making extravagant plans, and most elaborate suggestions for the trip. She offered to lend Beatrice anything and everything she possessed, from her cut glass vase to her ice cream freezer, and the last thing the elder sister heard that night was a recipe for sea sickness and an idea for making over a travelling suit out of Miss Billy's brown gown. It was daybreak when Beatrice awoke. The house was very still and quiet, and the light morning breeze blew aside the white curtains at the windows. Beatrice raised herself on one elbow and looked out at the little glimpse of water visible between the high roofs. The sun was rising, away out on the breast of the lake, and each little ruffled wave was touched with a crest of gold. Beatrice was not often affected by her surroundings, but just now, in the light of her new happiness, the day seemed symbolic of her life, and the sun that gilded the grey waves like the pleasant plan that had made her sombre life glad. Yesterday's grief seemed very far away, and to-day's joy was very near and dear. She clasped her hands, and whispered earnestly: "Help me to deserve it, Lord." The sounds of the two whispered voices which came from the next room did not disturb her, and she lay dreamily happy in her own thoughts, until the sound of her own name aroused her. It was her father's voice that said: "Well, Beatrice needs it. We must manage it some way." The girl turned her head, and listened intently as he continued: "How much money is it going to cost us?" Mrs. Lee's estimate was not discernible, but her husband's reply betrayed its tenor: "I wish a hundred dollars came as easily to me now as it did six months ago." "I don't see how we can do it for any less," said Mrs. Lee. "Bea's wardrobe is scanty, and she will require more clothes than she needs when she is at home. Beside, she will have to have money for incidentals. Mr. Van Courtland is very generous, but we don't want to impose on him, or embarrass Beatrice." "Oh, no, she can't get along with any less. Still, it will be a little hard to spare just now. I feel our poverty most when it touches the children." "It _is_ a good deal, but I think it's worth the sacrifice. Beatrice has looked white and worn lately, and we can't afford to let her be sick." "I hadn't noticed it," said Mr. Lee anxiously. "Do you think she's not well?" "It's heart sickness as much as anything else. Bea has never seemed happy since we moved onto Cherry Street. She misses the old home and the old friends. She was not so easily reconciled as Wilhelmina and Theodore." "Then I think more than ever that we must manage it. I shall not regret the effort if she comes back physically improved. After that I'll trust the mental and moral indisposition to take care of themselves. Bea is not naturally pessimistic."