"See here!" she burst out suddenly, "I'll tell you what I'll do! I told J. G. that I wouldn't go another step with him--mascot or no mascot. He wants to go over the Himalayas--to start next week--he has an idea. But if you'll go, I'll take you! What do you say? My guest, of course: it don't cost you a penny." The woman turned utterly white. Where her knuckles gripped the arms of the chair they showed a bluish tinge. "Me? Me?" she whispered. Her eyes fell to her helpless knees. "Oh, you needn't think of that at all," said Madeline. "I knew a man who didn't _have_ any legs, even, that went round the world and up the Pyramids. He had money." The woman looked wildly about. Her eyes fell on Caroline and this seemed to bring her into some sort of focus again; the color came back to her face. "That was lovely for you to think of, dear," she said, breathlessly yet; "but--but--for a moment I forgot.... I--I didn't think of Lorenzo!" "Oh, we'll get a housekeeper for Lorenzo," Madeline said lightly; "he'll do very well, won't he? One man can't be much to take care of--you haven't any children?" The easy, equal tone, the bright, dry impudence of this little air plant, this rootless, aimless bubble skipping over the bottomless deeps of life, brought the dazzled woman quickly to herself. She looked compassionately at the girl. "No," she said gravely, her hands unconsciously flying to her deep breast; "we haven't any children. And he's not much to take care of--for his wife. But he wouldn't care for a housekeeper." "Oh!" her eyes fell uneasily. "Then we'll take him along!" She recovered herself. Mrs. Winterpine sent her chair with a swift push close to the girl and laid one hand on her hot forehead, pushing back the thick hair. "What a gen'rous little thing you are!" she cried wonderingly. "But where were you brought up, child? Lorenzo can't jump and run off to the Himalaya Mountains like that! It takes him a long time to make up his mind. He--he don't care for travel, besides. He's a regular Winterpine. And there's the stock. No. I guess I'll keep on doing my traveling at home. That book you said you'd send...." "I'll send a dozen--fifty!" the girl cried impulsively. "I'll bring them up from New York to-morrow! I'll bring some pictures, too. The Alps and Venice and the snapshots I took on the Nile! You seem to know how they look, well enough!" "Yes, I know, I know...." the woman repeated dreamily. "Don't you want to go?" Madeline urged curiously. Again Mrs. Winterpine turned white. "Then why don't you?" "Child, child!" cried she of the chair, "didn't I tell you he don't care for travel? We can't do as we like in this world--we don't live alone. We're placed. There's a hundred things.... Where were you brought up?" Madeline's face flushed a dark, heavy red. Her light confidence drowned in it; she dropped her eyes. "In the Klondike!" she said sullenly, "I told you."