and
the younger members of the party were a little subdued from their first
enthusiasm by all sorts of exciting pleasures. As for Harry Foster, the
lad felt as if a door had been kindly opened in the solid wall of
hindrance which had closed about him, and as if he could look through
now into a new life.

XVII.

GOING AWAY.

MISS LEICESTER and her nephew, Betty's father, were sitting together in
the library. Betty had gone to bed. It was her last night in Tideshead,
and the summer which had been so long to look forward to was spent and
gone. She had felt very sorry before she went to sleep, and thought of
many things which might have been better, but after all one could not
help being very rich and happy with so many pleasures to remember. When
she thought how many new friends she had made, and how dear all the old
ones had been, and that she had become very friendly even with Mrs.
Beck, it was a great satisfaction. And now in less than a fortnight she
was to be with Ada and Bessie Duncan and their delightful mother in
London again. She certainly had a great deal to look forward to; still
there was a wistful feeling in her heart at leaving Tideshead.

There had been a fire in the library fireplace, for the evening was
cool, and papa and Aunt Barbara sat opposite each other. Papa was
smoking, as he always did before he went to bed; and happily Miss
Leicester liked the odor of tobacco, so that they were comfortable
together. They were talking most affectionately about Betty.

"I think you have done wonderfully with her, Tom," said the aunt.
"Nobody knows how anxious your Aunt Mary and I have felt at the thought
of your carrying her hither and yon, and spoiling her because she
couldn't settle down to regular habits of life."

"The only way is not to let one's habits become irregular," answered
Betty's papa. "I found out long ago that I could have my hours for work
and for exercise, and could go on with my reading as well in one place
as in another. I have tried not to let Betty see too many people in town
life, yet pretty soon she will be sixteen. She has always seemed to look
at life from a child's point of view until last spring. I don't mean
that she doesn't still have many days when she only considers the
world's relation to herself; but on the whole she begins to be very
serious about her own relation to the world, and is constantly made to
think more of what she can give than of what she can get. This