"Awed, I thought you might need a new one, and so I bought this," said Marion, producing a very nice morocco satchel. "I'd like you to have everything nice and respectable, as you are going among strangers. But if you don't like it, you can change it at Pritchard's; I bought it on that condition, for I know young lasses have their fancies." "Indeed, I don't want to change it. I think it is beautiful," said Rhoda, surveying her present. "But what is this in the pocket. Oh what a pretty purse! And money in it, too! Oh, Marion, you shouldn't! I ought not to take it!" "Aweel, ye can do as you please, but the purse is no my present, it is Mrs. Ferrand's," said Marion. "She bade me give it to you from her and Miss Isa." "Can't I see them, then?" said Rhoda. "Are they not at home? Oh how sorry I am!" "No, they're gone away with yon man to some of his nonsense conventions, or such like. It is Isa's vacation, ye ken." "Of course he couldn't let her have any good of it," said Rhoda. "He would be miserable if he thought the poor child was enjoying herself." "Na, na, ye should not say that," said Marion. "The man means no harm." "Perhaps not. Aunt Hannah used to say that more than half the mischief in the world was done by people who meant no harm. Well, good-bye, dear Marion; you won't forget me, will you?" "What should ail me to forget you, lass?" said Marion, a little gruffly. "There, there! Dinna greet and make me as foolish as yourself. Ye 'll no forget to drop a line and let me know how you have got on." With all her courage and all her hopes for the future, Rhoda felt rather forlorn as she started on her journey at three in the afternoon. She had taken a sleeping car, by Mrs. Mulford's advice, and was almost alone in it. A part of the road was the same as that she had travelled in coming from Boonville when she supposed herself bound for a boarding-school in the city, and a flood of bitterness rushed over her when she remembered her thoughts and feelings on that occasion. It required something of a crying fit and a good many prayers to quiet her spirits. But by the time she had reached Caneota, she was sufficiently composed to look eagerly at the crowd around the dépôt to see if she could find any one she knew, for a good many people from Boonville came to Caneota to take the cars. At last her eyes were gladdened by the sight of Jeduthun Cooke's dark face, and she opened the window and called to him. "Why, Rhoda, is that you?" exclaimed Jeduthun, cordially, shaking hands. "Where you bound?" "To Philadelphia first, and then from there to Cohansey, where I am going to live for a while." "Do tell! Going to school?" "No," answered Rhoda, colouring; "I am going into a school, but it is as a servant, not a scholar. Do you know anything about—"