ittle chap, though he doesn't
know a mockingbird from a jack rabbit."

"I don't have to have young men around. I'm not going because of Dick
Brown."

"Oh, so it's settled then. Well, I wish you good-by."

The Irish girl rose and stood stiffly by the bed.

"It isn't settled," Hertha cried, "I can't settle things quickly. Oh, I
do wish everything wasn't so difficult."

"I must be going," said Kathleen. "Good-night."

Hertha dragged her friend toward her and threw her arms about her neck.
"If I do go to Brooklyn," she said, "I can still see you sometimes, and
you'll come to see me."

"There was a New York man once, Hertha, and he had two daughters, one
lived in Australia and one in Brooklyn, and he made one visit in his
life to each."

"That's silly!"

"Perhaps. But it's a big city, and if you leave here and go to foreign
parts of it, I'm afraid it's good-by."

"Well, it isn't good-by for me, wherever I go." Hertha kissed her friend
and held her close. "It's never going to be good-by like that. I love
you, Kathleen."

The older woman returned the embrace. "Play with your mates!" she heard
in her ears. "Grasp whatever of happiness you can."

"Have you money?" she questioned.

"Yes, enough for my education."

"Oh, how will I ever get along with you away!"

And with this cry Kathleen put out the light and went away to a
difficult and sorrowful night.

When she returned on Wednesday evening, snatching a few hours from her
harassing case, she hurried up the stairs and into the front room. One
glance told her that her friend had left. The framed picture was there
and the curtains that Hertha had bought and made herself. On the table
was the magazine out of which she had read a story the week before; but
the room was desolate, for in the alcove all the little things that
belonged to a young girl's dress were missing. The stiff, unnatural
order of bed and bureau mocked the looker-on. Going into the kitchen,
Kathleen saw a letter addressed to herself, but she made no attempt to
read it. Wearily entering her bedroom, she changed her gown and more
wearily returned to cook her dinner. The water hissed at her in the
kettle as she set her solitary place.

"Why does everybody leave me just when I've learned to love them?" she
asked herself. And, receiving no answer, she sat down in the rocker by
the red geraniums and buried her face in her hands.

III

DICK

CHAPTER XXV

"What shall we do t