Cis “grabbed a bus in the dark,” as she told herself, one of three which bore the names of hotels, this one being “The Beacon Head,” which hit Cis’s fancy: it chanced to be the best hotel in town; not the most pretentious, but the most dignified and well-conducted. “Luck’s holding!” thought Cis, having registered and been assigned a room at her limit of price, and finding the room comfortable, well-furnished, its two windows giving, one on an enclosed court, but the other on the main street. Cis went to bed early, after a remarkably well-cooked, nicely served dinner. She debated going out in search of amusement, but decided for early sleep and a long night. “If you re going to spend a week loafing, my girl, you’ll have a hard enough job putting in the time, and when you’ve got to work at enjoying yourself, don’t make the job harder by plunging the first night, using up scanty materials for fun,” she advised herself, taking the lift to her room on the second floor merely for the luxury of it, though she preferred walking up stairs. Cis awoke early, thoroughly refreshed, but she carried out her principle of compelling herself to be luxurious by not rising till after eight. Then, bath and breakfast over, she sallied out to see the city. Cis found Beaconhite greatly to her liking; she came back to the Beacon Head with a good appetite, and the conviction that here she should like to stay. She would not defer presenting her letter of introduction till the end of the week; she would present it to Mr. Wilmer Lucas the day after to-morrow. It was not likely that she would at once step into employment; she must allow time for a position to be found for her, so she would be prudent, and use her introduction sooner than she had intended doing. In reality, one forenoon of luxurious idleness had shown active Cis that many days so spent would undermine her spirits and her patience. On the third day after her arrival in Beaconhite, Cis made herself trig and trim in the well-cut suit which she was wearing that summer, with a fine fresh shirt-waist, and her simple white hat. She had dressed carefully and looked her best; she sallied forth to call on Mr. Wilmer Lucas less hopeful than confident. She found the bank of which Mr. Lucas was president, to which Jeanette Lucas had directed her to find her uncle, a really impressively magnificent building, its furnishings and finish declaring its assets; its architecture and material announcing its security. Mr. Lucas, she was told, did not come to the bank every day; this was one of the mornings on which he was to be found in his law office. It was not far from the bank; Cis turned her steps thither, and was shown into Mr. Lucas’ private office after a sufficient time had elapsed for him to read the introductory letter from his brother, which Cis sent in to him by the messenger who came forward to her in the outer office.