"And it’s quite different," she would explain. "Knowing the stress and the difficulties of this side of it make me long for that little haven of a home we are getting ready at Richmond. I would bury myself there for ever, from a selfish point of view that is, and probably vegetate like the others. But I’ve made a pledge never to forget--never to forget what I’ve seen in London, and never to stop working for it somewhere or somehow." "What about your poor husband?" asked Jean. "He isn’t poor," said the fencing girl with a grin. "He is getting quite rich. He fell in love with me at the tenements. He built them. I should think he would divorce me if I turned narrow-minded." She gazed in a searching way at Elsie. "You have the makings of a somebody," she said gravely, "more than these two, though they are perfectly charming." "I want to go to the Balkans," said Elsie. She turned to Mabel. "Cousin Arthur declared he really would take me." "Is Mr. Symington there now?" asked Jean. Mabel thanked her from the bottom of a heart that couldn’t prompt a single word at that supreme moment. "No, but he said he was going some day," said Elsie. That was all. Mabel had seen a blaze of sunshine and then blackness again. "Oh," said the robust, unheeding Jean, "what do your people say to that?" "Papa says he won’t have me butchered," said Elsie with a radiant smile. "Look here," said the fencing girl, with her eyes still searching that "wild flower of a face" of Elsie’s. "Will your father come and see my tenements?" The answer of Elsie became historic in the girls’ club. "I think he will," said she. "He was up the Ferris wheel last night." CHAPTER XXVI Under Royal Patronage Mrs. Leighton made use of the fact of the Clutterbuck’s being in London to write to the Professor’s wife. "We have been so anxious about Elma, who now however is picking up. But we have the saddest news of Miss Annie. It seems as though she would not live more than a day or two. If I have bad news to send to Mabel and Jean, may I send it through you? It would be such a kindness to me if I knew you were there to tell them." Mrs. Clutterbuck responded in that loving tremulous way she had of delighting in being useful. She could not believe in her good fortune with the Professor. After all, it had been worry, concern about material things, which had clouded his affection for a time. He had never been able to give himself to the world, as he desired to give himself, because of that grind at lectures which he so palpably abhorred. Now even the lectures were a delight, since he had leisure besides where he did not need to reflect on the certainty of "the rainy day." He was once more the hero of her girlish dreams. How magnificent not to lose one’s ideal! They both rejoiced in the young ardour of Elsie, whose courage made leaps at each new unfolding of the "loveliness of life."