dollars. Besides, we do not take girls of your class. This is a finishing
school for young ladies. You will have to inquire further," and the woman
swept away to laugh with her colleagues over the queer character, the new
kind of tramp, she had just been called to interview. The maid came pertly
forward, and said that Elizabeth could not longer stand where she was.

Bewilderment and bitter disappointment in her face, Elizabeth went slowly
down to her horse, the great tears welling up into her eyes. As she rode
away, she kept turning back to the school grounds wistfully. She did not
notice the passers-by, nor know that they were commenting upon her
appearance. She made a striking picture in her rough garments, with her
wealth of hair, her tanned skin, and tear-filled eyes. An artist noticed
it, and watched her down the street, half thinking he would follow and
secure her as a model for his next picture.

A woman, gaudily bedecked in soiled finery, her face giving evidence of
the frequent use of rouge and powder, watched her, and followed,
pondering. At last she called, "My dear, my dear, wait a minute." She had
to speak several times before Elizabeth saw that she was talking to her.
Then the horse was halted by the sidewalk.

"My dear," said the woman, "you look tired and disappointed. Don't you
want to come home with me for a little while, and rest?"

"Thank you," said Elizabeth, "but I am afraid I must go on. I only stop on
Sundays."

"But just come home with me for a little while," coaxed the wheedling
tones. "You look so tired, and I've some girls of my own. I know you would
enjoy resting and talking with them."