To do this work the more successfully, Tiara took the lecture platform and traveled from city to city, pleading her cause. She also took an active interest in the question of local option, seeking to suppress the liquor traffic wherever local sentiment could be educated to the point that made such a course possible. This work of temperance brought her very often before audiences in which there were white people and Negroes, and sometimes she spoke to audiences in which there were white people only. It may be said with truth that Tiara was deeply concerned in all these matters and sometimes felt that it was perhaps destiny's way of forcing her out of a reserve that had hitherto denied the world the benefit of some of her powers. But while her heart was in this work, it must also be confessed that she never faced an audience but that her beautiful eyes surveyed it with eagerness, ever in search of some one woman face. Her correspondence grew to be very large, and each batch of letters, before being opened, was looked over hurriedly in the hope of finding a certain woman's handwriting. A close student of countenances could have discerned over and over the signs of disappointment that her weary heart would often register upon her beautiful face. Days and months and then years dragged their way slowly along. At last one day Tiara's patient waiting seemed about to be rewarded. An exclamation of joy, a happy little laugh, a beautiful face that told of a weary heart at last made glad, indicated that the letter which Tiara had long hoped for had come. Tiara took the next train for Goldsboro, Mississippi, a small town in the interior of the state. It was not until the next morning that her train pulled up to her stopping place. "Can you tell me where the Hon. Q. A. Johnson lives?" "To be shuah, ma'am," said the Negro lad to whom Tiara had spoken. "Ef you'll git right in heah, you'll be dah befoh yer know it, ma'am," said he giving a Chesterfieldian bow. As Tiara took the back seat of the double seated buggy, a young Negro man clambered upon the front seat by the side of the driver whom Tiara had accosted. He had a somewhat intelligent looking face and was evidently accustomed to good society, although his clothes on this occasion were ragged and dirty. This Negro had been on the train with Tiara since leaving Almaville, but she had been so absorbed in the object of her mission that she was oblivious to all that was passing around her. "Whar you gwine?" asked the driver of his Negro companion. "Scuse me, but beins you don't seem to be over prosp'rous, I specks you had kinder bettah pay in advance," said the driver, with a diplomatic smile that said, "Now, don't get mad. This is a business matter." Without a word the stranger pulled out a bill and handed it to the driver, who took out his fare.