Ephraim was doing some talking. Everyone loved Betty Emmit--young and old--but some wondered if she would make a good missionary. She was so full of rollicking fun, that it was not easy to imagine her setting down to the strict, sober life of a mission. However, those who knew her well, knew her deep religious nature, which after all was the motive power of her young life and the source of her merry sunshine disposition. A farewell party was to be given to Betty at the town hall. Posters were everywhere hung, and the admonition was given for every one to be present. The only ones excused would be "tired husbands" who should send money by their wives. Betty stood reading one of these posters and laughed to herself. "Whoever wrote that! The very idea! Here's for equal rights!" From her pocket, she took her pencil and wrote underneath, "'_Tired wives_' will send money by their husbands!" "What right have you to touch those public posters?" said a voice that made her turn quickly. She faced the young man with mock defiance. "They're _my_ posters, aren't they?" "Not a bit of it," he replied; his blue eyes laughing into her merry, brown ones. "_Nothing_ belongs to you now,--_you_ belong to everybody, _Miss Missionary_!" "Indeed!" returned the girl, tossing her curls. "Perhaps, then, you'd like to take the 'public property' home for safe keeping until to-night?" "Just why I stopped the car!" exclaimed the youth delighted. "You shouldn't be wandering around the streets tiring yourself out, for to-night everyone will want to have a 'farewell' dance with you!" Betty jumped into the car, her companion following, and the machine raced off. Once off Main St., Stanley Todd slackened his machine. He turned to Betty tenderly. "So girlie, you're off for two whole years? Suppose when you come back, you'll look down on Ephraim, and such as me." Betty looked up at the bright face, bronzed by the sun and outdoor-life of the mountains. Her eyes softened, and sudden tears filled her lovely eyes. "When Betty Emmit forgets Ephraim and her old friends," she replied soberly, "the sun will cease to shine!" "By heck! that sounds just like you!" said the lad, and he gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. "I wish, though," he added hesitatingly, "you'd be engaged to me before you leave!" Betty's forehead puckered thoughtfully,--then she frankly answered. "Stanley, why do you say that again? It's no sense to be engaged when one is not in love. You know that I think just heaps of you--as a real, real brother. I'll never be in love--don't really know what that means,--so you ought to be satisfied." "I suppose that I'll have to be," he returned with a sigh. "Well, we won't cry over it," he said smiling down on her, and giving his machine a little spurt. "May I escort you to the dance, to-night?" "Yes," she replied, smiling back at him. "That'll be some pleasure anyway--to take you to your 'farewell,'" he said happily. Betty's eyes flashed merriment.