, and stood a moment in the hall, pondering the
situation. Olivia Copeland was too valuable to throw away. The college
must be made to realize her worth. But that was difficult. Patty had
tried to make the college realize things before. Miss Prescott was the
only means of salvation that she could think of, and Miss Prescott was a
doubtful means. She did not at all relish the prospect of calling on
her, but there seemed to be nothing else to do. She made a little
grimace and laughed. "I'm acting like a freshman myself," she thought.
"Walk up, Patty, and face the guns"; and without giving herself time to
hesitate she marched up-stairs and knocked on Miss Prescott's door. She
reflected after she had knocked that perhaps it would have been more
politic to have postponed her business until the morrow. But the door
opened before she had time to run away, and she found herself rather
confusedly bowing to Miss Prescott, who held in her hand, not a book on
calculus, but a common, every-day magazine.

"Good evening, Miss Wyatt. Won't you come in and sit down?" said Miss
Prescott, in a very cordially human tone.

As she sank into a deep rush chair Patty had a blurred vision of low
bookcases, pictures, rugs, and polished brass thrown into soft relief by
a shaded lamp which stood on the table. Before she had time to mentally
shake herself and reconstruct her ideas she was gaily chatting to Miss
Prescott about the probable outcome of a serial story in the magazine.

Miss Prescott did not seem to wonder in the least at this unusual visit,
but talked along easily on various subjects, and laughed and told
stories like the humanest of human beings. Patty watched her,
fascinated. "She's _pretty_," she thought to herself and she began to
wonder how old she was. Never before had she associated any age whatever
with Miss Prescott. She had regarded her much in the same light as a
scientific truth, which exists, but is quite irrespective of time or
place. She tried to recall some story that had been handed about among
the girls her freshman year. She remembered vaguely that it had in it
the suggestion that Miss Prescott had once been in love. At the time
Patty had scoffingly repudiated the idea, but now she was half willing
to believe it.

Suddenly, in the midst of the conversation, the ten-o'clock bell rang,
and Patty recalled her errand with a start.

"I suppose," she said, "you are wondering why I came."

"I was hoping," said Miss Pre