Lilian Boyd glanced around the station at Mount Morris with a kind of joyous surprise and wonder. The beautiful town with its straight streets, some of them with a narrow park in the centre, houses that were palatial to her inexperienced eyes, with terraced lawns, wide porches, graceful shrubbery and a profusion of flowers. True, the station was quite at one side and a little farther down the road crossed the river that went meandering along, too winding and shallow for business purposes. Opposite there was a succession of wooded hills with here and there a stately residence. "How beautiful, mother!" Lilian cried, moved in every pulse of her being, her eyes lustrous with tears, her lips quivering. The beauty did not so move the mother. She was embarrassed and shrank when the coachman with an authoritative air approached them. "Mrs. Boyd?" tentatively. There had been but few passengers and they had gone their way. She glanced timidly at Lilian who answered for her. "Give me your checks, please, and I will order the trunks sent up." "There is only one," in a deprecating tone. Lilian was glad she had insisted on a nice new trunk. "This way please," and he took the girl's satchel. Mrs. Boyd followed rather than led, but her daughter stood aside so that she should be assisted in first. "What a beautiful town!" she exclaimed involuntarily. She had a feeling that they were recovering from a reverse of fortune and this was their rightful place. Then she smiled at the absurdity. Mount Morris Seminary was rather at the lower part of the town, and a long level stretched between that and the river, broken by a few clumps of shrubbery. The house was a handsome old style building, colonial in its aspect with its broad piazza and fluted columns going up to the second story. There was an imposing entrance, but the porte cochere was at the side where the wide screen door showed a sort of reception hall, furnished with willow and splint belongings, a table with magazines and papers and two great jars of ferns. A tidy maid received them. "Would they please be seated, Mrs. Barrington would be down in a moment." Lilian drew a long breath of rapture. To live in a place like this! To wander in the beautiful garden, to work and study in such inspiring environments. Yes, she had come to work as well. She had been too young to discriminate, but in an instant she seemed to realize how bitter the struggle with poverty and discouragement had been, the hurry with hardly an hour's real enjoyment. No wonder it had made her mother worn and hesitating, fearful, and here everything was so leisurely aspected. She heard the soft trail of a gown over the stairs and rose in eager expectancy. Mrs. Barrington was a handsome woman at sixty, tall and straight, with a gracious presence. Her hair was snowy white as the girl had hoped and lay in loose waves about her forehead. Her dark eyes were not easily evaded, but her manner of smiling serenity was in itself a welcome.