ather important, but the difference between a suit made by
Atkins the tailor, and one built by Gustaf Paulsen, the new Danish
craftsman, could not be supposed to be crucially important, even when
designed for a very dear friend. And Jim was scarcely that--of course not!
Why, then, did the county superintendent hastily run to her room, and cry?
Why did she say to herself that the Hansens were very good people, and
well-to-do, and it would be a fine thing for Jim and his mother,--and then
cry some more? Colonel failed to notice Jennie's unceremonious retirement
from circulation that evening, and had he known all about what took place,
he would have been as mystified as you or I.

CHAPTER XVIII

JIM GOES TO AMES

The boat tipped over, and Jim Irwin was left struggling in the water. It
was in the rapids just above the cataract--and poor Jim could not swim a
stroke. Helpless, terrified, gasping, he floated to destruction, and
Jennie Woodruff was not able to lift a hand to help him. To see any human
being swept to such an end is dreadful, but for a county superintendent to
witness the drowning of one of her best--though sometimes it must be
confessed most insubordinate--teachers, under such circumstances, is
unspeakable; and when that teacher is a young man who was once that county
superintendent's sweetheart, and falls in, clothed in a new made-to-order
suit in which he looks almost handsome despite his manifest discomfort in
his new cravat and starched collar, the experience is something almost
impossible to endure. That is why Jennie gripped her seat until she must
have scratched the varnish. That is why she felt she must go to him--and
do something. She could not endure it a moment longer, she felt; and there
he floated away, his poor pale face dipping below the waves, his sad,
long, homely countenance sadder than ever, his lovely--yes, she must
confess it now, his eyes were lovely!--his lovely blue eyes, so honest and
true, wide with terror; and she unable to give him so much as a cry of
encouragement!

And then Jim began to swim. He cast aside the roll of manuscript which he
had held in his hand when the waters began to rise about him, and struck
out for the shore with strong strokes--wild and agitated at first, but
gradually becoming controlled and coordinated, and Jennie drew a long
breath as he finally came to shore, breasting the waves like Triton, and
master of the element in which he moved. There was a