She should not have come on such an expedition. The idea of her driving four miles out to the school in a jiggling car--and right back again--was absurd. He spoke almost sternly. He had a time-table in his pocket; a train left for New York five minutes after their train arrived at Elbridge; Mrs. Hazlitt must take that back, go straight to bed; he would give her a powder. Of course he would see Miss Hazlitt safely to the school--yes, even into Miss Barton's presence. He wrote his prescription. Lita saw that her mother was going to obey. As they got out at the station they saw the New York train already waiting. Dacer put Mrs. Hazlitt on it; and Lita, watching them, saw Mrs. Hazlitt turn at the steps and give him some special injunction. Well, she probably would not confide to him so soon the scandal of the letter to Valentine; and if she did, it would be easy to explain. Dacer's face was untroubled as he returned to her. "She's all in," he said. A sharp self-reproach clutched at Lita's heart, the capacity for emotion having unexpectedly returned to her. "Did it really do her harm to come out here?" "It really is better for her to go straight home," he answered, as if admitting other motives had entered into his advice. They got into the school flivver, which was waiting for them. Rain had just stopped and the back curtains were down. It was dark. As they wheeled away from the station lights Lita heard him saying, "Didn't you know I wasn't married?" She did not immediately answer. Her hand was taken. "Didn't you know?" he said again. A strange thing was happening to Lita. She formed the resolution of withdrawing her hand; she sent the impulse out from her brain, but it seemed only to reach her elbow; her hand, limp and willing, continued to remain in his. They spoke hardly at all. The near presence of Matthew, the driver, a well-known school gossip, made speech undesirable. Besides, it wasn't necessary. Lita was perfectly content with silence as long as that large, solid hand enveloped hers. As they turned in at the school gate he said, "You'll come over to see Aurelia this evening, I suppose." She knew it wouldn't be possible, and was obliged to say so. And he was going back to town by a morning train. There was a pause. As they got out he said, "Do you ever get up very early--as early as six?" "I could always make a beginning," said Lita. And then, true to his promise, he turned the chairman of the self-government committee over to the keeping of Miss Barton herself. One excellent way of waking early is not to sleep at all. Lita hardly slept and was out of bed in time to watch the slow but fortunately inevitable spreading of the dawn. The new day was evidently going to be one of those days in late March when, though the earth has no suggestion of spring, the sky and the air are as vernal as May. Lita could see a light in the upper story of the infirmary. Dacer's perhaps.