Missy didn't care a whit to hear the disgusting Dobson, but she felt the reason for her reluctance mightn't be understood--might even arouse hateful merriment, for Aunt Nettie was sitting there listening. So she said evasively: “I think mother wants me to work on my thesis.” “Oh, I can fix it with mother all right,” said father. Missy started to demur further but, so listless was her spirit, she decided it would be easier to go than to try getting out of it. She wouldn't have to pay attention to the detestable Dobson; and she always loved to go places with father. And it was pleasant, after he had “fixed it” with mother, to walk along the dusky streets with him, her arm tucked through his as if she were a grown-up. Walking with him thus, not talking very much but feeling the placidity and sense of safety that always came over her in father's society, she almost forgot the offensive celebrity awaiting them in the Opera House. Afterward Missy often thought of her reluctance to go to that lecture, of how narrowly she had missed seeing Dobson. The narrow margins of fate! What if she hadn't gone! Oh, life is thrillingly uncertain and interwoven and mysterious! The Opera House was crowded. There were a lot of women there, the majority of them staid Cherryvale matrons who were regular subscribers to the Lyceum Course, but Missy, regarding them severely, wondered if they were there hoping to get kissed. Presently Mr. Siddons, who dealt in “Real Estate and Loans” and passed the plate at the Presbyterian church, came out on the platform with another man. Mr. Siddons was little and wiry and dark and not handsome; Missy didn't much care for him as it is not possible to admire a man who looks as if he ought to run up a tree and chatter and swing from a limb by a tail; besides he was well known to be “stingy.” But his soul must be all right, since he was a deacon; and he was a leading citizen, and generally introduced speakers at the Lyceum Course. He began his familiar little mincing preamble: “It gives me great pleasure to have the privilege of introducing to you a citizen so distinguished and esteemed--” Esteemed! Then the other man walked forward and stood beside the little table with the glass and pitcher of water on it. Missy felt constrained to cast a look at the Honourable Ridgeley Holman Dobson. Well, he was rather handsome, in a way--one had to admit that; he was younger than you expect lecturers to be, and tall and slender, with awfully goodlooking clothes, and had dark eyes and a noticeable smile--too noticeable to be entirely sincere and spontaneous, Missy decided.