When they got back to the city that evening there was a note from Bonnie, the first Courtland had received since the formal announcement of her arrival and her gratitude to him for being the means of bringing her to that dear home. This letter was almost as brief as the first, but it breathed a spirit of peace and content. She enclosed a check on the funeral account. Bonnie was well and happy. She was teaching the grammar-school where Stephen Marshall used to study when he was a little boy, and giving music lessons in the afternoons. She would soon be able to pay back everything she owed and to do a daughter's share in the home where she was treated like an own child. She closed by saying that the kindness he had shown her would never be forgotten; that he had seemed to her, and always would, like the messenger of the Lord sent to help her in her despair. There was a ring so fresh and strong and true in this little letter, that he could but recognize it. He sighed and thought how strange it was that he should almost resent it, coming as it did in contrast with Gila's falseness. Gila who had professed to love him so deeply, and then had so easily laid that love aside and put on another. Perhaps all girls were the same. Perhaps this Bonnie, too, would do the same if a man turned out not to have her ideals. He answered Bonnie's note in a day or two with a cordial one, returning her check, assuring her that everything was fully paid, and expressing his pleasure that she had found a real home and congenial work. Then he dismissed her from his mind. A week later he went to the seminary, and Pat accompanied him as far as the preparatory school where he was to enter upon his duties as athletic coach.