! Why, Del, it's ridiculous. And in place of
Ross Whitney!"

"Be careful what you say, Artie," she warned in a quiet, ominous tone,
with that in her eyes which should in prudence have halted him. "I am
engaged to Dory, remember."

"Nonsense!" cried Arthur. "Why, he hasn't a cent, except his beggarly
salary as professor at that little jay college. And even if he should
amount to something some day, he'll never have anything or any standing
in society. I thought you had pride, Del. Just wait till I see him! I'll
let him know what I think of his impudence. Of course, I don't blame him.
Naturally, he wants to get up in the world. But _you_--" Arthur's laugh
was a sneer--"And I thought you were _proud_!"

From Del's eyes blazed that fury which we reserve for those we love when
they exasperate us. "Shame on you, Arthur Ranger!" she exclaimed. "Shame
on you! See what a snob you have become. Except that he's poor, Dory
Hargrave has the advantage of any man we know. He's got more in his head
any minute than you or your kind in your whole lives. And he is honorable
and a gentleman--a _real_ gentleman, not a pretender. You aren't big
enough to understand him; but, at least, you know that if it weren't for
your prospects from father, you wouldn't be in the same class with him.
_He_ is somebody in himself. But you--and--and your kind--what do _you_
amount to, in yourselves?"

Arthur lowered at her. "So this is what you've been leading up to,
with all the queer talk you've been giving me on and off, ever since
we came home."

That remark seemed to Adelaide for an instant to throw a flood of light
in amazing revelation upon her own innermost self. "I believe it is!" she
exclaimed, as if dazed. Then the light seemed to go, seemed to have been
only imaginary. It is not until we are much older than Del then was, that
we learn how our acts often reveal us to ourselves.

"So you're in love with Dory," scoffed Arthur. "You're a wonder--you are!
To go about the world and get education and manners and culture, and then
to come back to Saint X and take up with a jay--a fellow that's never
been anywhere."

"Physically, he hasn't traveled much," said Del, her temper curiously
and suddenly restored. "But mentally, Artie, dear, he's been distances
and to places and in society that your poor brain would ache just at
hearing about."

"You've lost your senses!"

"No, dear," replied Del sweetly; "on the contrary, I've put myself in the
way