him go to 'seek' that 'fortune' he yearns for, with a
new suit of clothes on his back and a hundred dollars in his pocket.
That's the law and I've took him in hand."

"So he's settled and done for, for a long time to come. It's just fine
for him, they'll treat him like a son--Baal can live his days out in a
pen--and Jack will grow up better fitted for his own station in life,
as you Canadians say. Down in the States we believe that folks make
their own 'stations'; don't find them hanging around their necks when
they are born. Why I know a boy who was--"

"There, Dolly Doodles! Don't get started on that subject. I know him
by heart. One remarkable creature named James Barlow, who couldn't
spell till you taught him and now has aspirations toward a college
professorship. By the letters he writes, I should judge him to be a
horrible prig. I wish I could see him once. I'd make him bow his lofty
head; you'd find out!"

Dorothy pulled a letter from her pocket and tossed it into her
friend's hands.

"You'll soon have a chance. Read that."

"Oh! may I?"

But the reading was brief and an expression of great disappointment
came to Winifred's face.

"Oh, Dorothy! How horrid!"

"Yes, dear. I felt so, too, at first. Now all I feel is a wish to be
through so I can hurry home to dear Aunt Betty who must need me
dreadfully, or she'd never disappoint us like this."

"It was such a beautiful plan. We should have had such a lovely time.
Ah! here comes Gwen. Girl, what do you think? Mrs. Calvert isn't well
enough to come to Canada, after all, and Dorothy has got to go home.
When it's all fixed, too. Father's freed himself from business for
three delightful months, and we three, with her were to go jaunting
about all over the country in his private car, and Dorothy to learn
that Canada beats the States all to pieces."

Gwendolyn shared the disappointment. That trio had been dubbed by
their mates as the "Inseparables" and the love between them all was
now deep and sincere.

"Read it aloud, Gwen. Maybe there's a chance yet, that I overlooked. I
was so mad I couldn't half see that upstart's writing--not after the
first few words. He doesn't mince matters, does he?"

The letter ran thus:

"DEAR DOROTHY:

"Mrs. Calvert will not be able to come to Canada to meet
you. She is not ill in bed but she needs you here. Dinah is
taking care of her now, and Ephraim and I have decided that
it is best for us two