“And he who wins the fight with Self Has won the bravest battle.”
 G
OOD-BYE, Miss Billy."
 
"Good-bye, Beatitude. You're a dear to help me off in this way. I won't forget it in a hurry."
 
"All rightie. See that you don't."
 
"And Bea, don't vex your soul over that mending basket. It's only one stitch in nine that saves time, you know."
 
"I won't, but you'd better make haste; you'll miss the boat."
 
"A miss wouldn't be as good as a mile then, would it? Good-bye, again. Yes, mother, I have a handkerchief. Also a corkscrew for the olives. Also my rubbers. Good-bye, everybody."
 
-111-
 
Miss Billy was going to a picnic, and in her usual way. The whole house had been in an uproar since six o'clock. There had been a hurried dressing, a hurried breakfast, and a hurried packing of lunch; and it was not until the blue linen suit disappeared around the corner that a lull fell over the home, and the household paused to take breath.
 
There were still the remains of the preparations for lunch to be cleared away, the study to be made clean, and the disorder which was left in Miss Billy's wake to be remedied. Her sister's work added to her own took Beatrice longer than usual, and it was ten o'clock before she came languidly into the garden with the mending basket under her arm. She tumbled out a large bundle of ragged stockings, and set to work.
 
It was hot and deserted on Cherry Street. Even in the shade, where Beatrice sat, the air was sultry and close, and the garden seat warm to the touch. The children seemed to have melted away from sidewalk and gutter. The-112- absence of Miss Billy and Theodore had left the place unnaturally dull and forlorn, and the incessant tick-tick of the little creatures in the grass was the only sound that broke the stillness.
 
Beatrice's thoughts flew with her needle. Last year at this time the whole family were at Gordon's Lake for the season. And it had been such a gay summer. A summer of boating and dancing; of driving and golfing, of pretty clothes, and new friends and good times. A summer of long, jolly, merry days, and of long, cool, restful nights. A summer that seemed made for the merriment that only ended when the last good-byes were said.
 
And now everybody else was going away; the Seabrookes, and the Van Courtlands and even the Blanchards; and they were to be left at home. It was all right for the rest of the family; Theodore hated "resorts," and Miss Billy never seemed to care for anything so long as she had her beloved books and flowers and children. "But I care," thought Bea-113-trice bitterly, "more than I ever thought I should care for anything."
 
It was easy enough to be good when one was happy, when good friends and pleasant times and pretty clothes were one's birthright; but when poverty and hard work was one's portion, when one's clothes were shabby and when one lived on Cherry Street——! A hot tear baptised Theodore's gay striped sock, and Beatrice, forgetful of her age and dignity, put her head down on the garden seat, and like little Cinderella, "let the tears have their way."
 
The stout, rosy-faced man who came up the front walk and rang the door bell did not look like a fairy godmother, but the most beneficent fairies go about disguised. Beatrice was so busy wiping her eyes that she did not notice his arrival, and as she went bravely back to work she little guessed the surprise that was in store for her. Not even the glad note in her mother's voice when she called her into the house made her suspicious.
 
-114-
 
The rosy-faced man was leaning up against the door of the study, smiling benignantly at Mr. and Mrs. Lee. He beamed even more delightedly as Beatrice entered.
 
Mrs. Lee scarcely waited for their greeting. Her eyes shone as she put her hand on her daughter's shoulder, and her voice was very happy as she said:
 
"Guess, dearie, what Mr. Van Courtland has come for. He wants you to go abroad next week."
 
The self-possessed Beatrice lost her dignity. She grew rosy with delight and gasped speechlessly for a moment before she ejaculated brokenly:
 
"Me? To go abroad? Oh, mother!"
 
That "oh, mother!" settled the matter, Mrs. Lee decided at once that she must go.
 
"It will not be a very long trip," explained Mr. Van Courtland. "We did not intend to start until later, but that bugbear 'business' stands like a fence between me and the rest of the world. Be thankful, Lee, that you are not-115- a banker. Mrs. Van Courtland and I shall sail on the 16th, land seven days later, and go immediately to Cologne for Margaret. We hope to be in Germany long enough for the Rhine trip, but shall probably sail for home immediately afterwards. We planned to borrow Miss Billy to take with us, but Mrs. Van Courtland says that the sea breezes will be just the thing for Beatrice's pale cheeks. She ought to see you this minute, young lady. You're anything but pale and wan now."
 
Beatrice did not even notice the compliment. Her brain was moving faster than Mr. Van Courtland's words. Europe, sea breezes, the Rhine! To leave the heat and dust of the city, the shabbiness and noise of Cherry Street, for the enchanting country across the sea. It seemed like a glorious dream of white-capped waves and cool breezes, from which one must wake up to the swarming Canarys and the loud-voiced Hennesys on Cherry Street.
 
"And if she goes, she goes as our guest. Mrs. Van Courtland dreads the trip, and I-116- confess a lingering longing for a young piece of humanity when I am aboard ship. As for our own Margie,—why she will jump out of her beloved Germany with joy when she sees a glimpse of her home friend. We will consider it a great favour if you'll lend us your girl for a while."
 
The matter was hurriedly decided. Mrs. Lee looked over at her husband with a quick glance that showed how much motherly love and anxiety for her daughter was at stake. The minister answered with a nod and a smile that seemed to say, "We must manage it."
 
Mr. Van Courtland departed satisfied, and Beatrice returned to the garden seat to dreamily wind the darning cotton into a snarl, and whisper joyfully to herself, "I am going abroad."
 
There was a family council after supper that night. Beatrice had rather dreaded to tell Miss Billy the glorious news, feeling that the trip was originally planned for the younger-117- sister, but Miss Billy sternly frowned upon her sister's reticence.
 
"The idea!" she said scornfully, "of thinking that I should be so mean and small about a thing like th............