d hills of
bleak and barren Kansas, where the educated and intellectual of earth were
as much foreigners as the inhabitants of far off Russia or Hindustan, had
by her thought not only prepared herself for the life she coveted, but had
compelled the opportunity to enter upon her travels therein. When Mr.
Farnshaw arrived, Mrs. Hornby was fortunate in the form of her request to
take his daughter with her, and it was arranged that if they went to
Topeka the child should be a member of their household.

"We'll be just as good to her as if she were our own," she promised, and
then added reflectively, "We're going to call her her full name too.
Elizabeth was my mother's name. It's so much prettier than Lizzie."

Under any other circumstances Mr. Farnshaw would have seen symptoms of
being "stuck-up" in the change of name, but Elizabeth had been his
mother's name, and although he had little recollection of his mother, and
had never heard her called by her given name, he had seen it writ large on
her tombstone, and, his eye having become accustomed to the word, his ear
fell naturally into line with its pronunciation; besides, his daughter was
to be a school-teacher, and was to sign contracts like a man, and must
have a proper sort of name. She was to live in the house of a member of
the legislature, too, and already called him and his wife "Uncle" and
"Aunt." Mr. Farnshaw tasted pride and found it a sweet morsel.

Election day came the first week in November and Nathan was successful.
With the high school year in view, they moved to Topeka the next week. It
was as if they were literally to educate their Katie. A slight
disappointment awaited them. Though they were ready the young girl did not
come immediately.

According to the dilatory methods of the Farnshaw household,
Elizabeth--she had been supported by her father when the boys had shown an
inclination to laugh her out of the change of name--was three weeks later
yet in going. The eager girl urged at home that she would be behind her
classes if she went into school so late in the term, but her parents, who
knew nothing of school requirements, refused to let her go till the corn
was all husked and everything snug for the winter, arguing that so much
stock had been lost the winter before that every care must be taken of
what was left. Tears at the prospect of such a handicap made no
impression, and it was not till December that the child and her father set
off in the farm w