she decided, and
with that decision came an inspiration. Why not ask Ethel Hale? Ethel
had tried to help Eleanor before, was interested in her, and understood
something of her moody, many-sided temperament. She had put Eleanor in
her debt too; she could urge her suggestion on the ground of a return
favor.

In an instant Betty's mind was made up. She looked ruefully at her dusty
shoes and mussed shirt-waist. "I can't go to see Ethel in these," she
decided, "but if I hurry home now I can dress and go right up there
after dinner, before she gets off anywhere." The putting must wait. With
one regretful glance out over the green, breezy course Betty started
resolutely off toward the dusty highway and the noisy trolleys.

CHAPTER XVII

AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION

"I wish I could do it, Betty, but I'm sure it wouldn't be the least use
for me to try. I thought I had a little hold on her for a while, but I'm
afraid I was too sure of her. She avoids me now--goes around corners and
into recitation rooms when she sees me coming. You see--I wonder if she
told you about our trip to New York?"

Betty nodded, wishing she dared explain the full extent of her
information.

"I thought so from your coming up here to-night. Well, as you've just
said, she's very reserved, strangely so for a young girl; when she lets
out anything about herself she wishes that she hadn't the next minute."

"Yes, I've noticed that," admitted Betty grudgingly.

"And so, having once let me get a glimpse of her better self, and then
having decided as usual that she wished she hadn't, she needed a proof
from me that I was worthy of her confidence. But I didn't give it; I was
busy and let the matter drop, and now I am the last person who could go
to her. I'm very sorry."

"Oh, dear!" said Betty forlornly.

"But isn't it so? Don't you agree with me?"

"I'm afraid I do."

"Then go back and speak to her yourself, dear. She's very fond of you,
and I'm sure a little friendly hint from you is all that she needs."

"No, I can't speak to her either, Ethel. You wouldn't suggest it if you
knew how things are between us. But I see that you can't. Thank you just
as much. No, I mustn't stop to-night."

Betty walked down the elm-shaded street lost in thought. Eleanor had
declaimed upon the foolishness of coming back on time after vacations
through most of the dinner hour, and Betty understood as she had not
that afternoon what Dorothy meant. But now her one