But the time dragged on heavily, and he longed for his mother’s next letter which would tell him whether or not he might pay his accustomed visit on Friday. It was not until Thursday night that he finally received it. “Miss Snyder is better now,” she wrote, “and I think it will be all right for you to come. She has insisted upon moving out of your room and taking the little attic one. She says she is going to find work next week. “She is a nice little girl, and I am sure you will like her. But be very careful not to remind her of her trouble. She has lost someone very dear--but I do not know whether it is a parent, or a fiancé, or some very dear friend. But she almost goes into hysterics whenever I start to ask questions, so that I have resolved to say nothing. Perhaps she will tell us some time.” John felt himself growing strangely interested in this mysterious girl. And, having resolutely decided to put Marjorie Wilkinson so far as possible from his thoughts, he did all in his power to encourage this new fancy. It had been a long time since he had felt an attraction for any other girl but Marjorie; the sensation therefore was novel. Spurred on by this emotion, he displayed more eagerness than usual in leaving his desk promptly on Friday afternoon to take the train to Cape May. He tried to attribute his excitement to the desire for fresh air and rest, after a week in the hot city, but he knew that this was not all. For when his mother, alone, met the train, he experienced a decided feeling of disappointment. “How’s Miss Snyder?” he asked, as soon as he had satisfied himself as to his mother’s health. “Much better, thank you. She’s gone to bed early, so you won’t see her tonight. She needs all her strength.” Another disappointment! John managed to conceal his feelings. “She--she doesn’t mind my coming?” he faltered. “Not a bit. She hardly listened when I told her.” This piece of information was not particularly pleasant to a young man who was hoping to forget his infatuation for one girl by becoming interested in a new one. Suppose she were as indifferent as Marjorie! “What’s she like?” asked John. “Quite pretty--and of rather a refined type, I should say. She comes of a cultured family, for she has a charming voice, and lovely manners.” “Does she seem to have recovered from her illness?” “Yes, except that she is very pale, and awfully nervous. But I think she will soon come around all right.” “And how old a girl do you think she is?” “I hardly know. Let’s see--Marjorie Wilkinson is eighteen, isn’t she?” John flushed at the mention of the girl’s name, and nodded assent. “Well, Miss Snyder must be two or three years older,” continued Mrs. Hadley; “although you can’t tell, because her illness has pulled her down so.” John was afraid to ask any more questions, lest his mother might think his interest too pointed, and decided to restrain his curiosity until the following day.