in my trunk," she explained, unwinding her handkerchief to see if the
bleeding had stopped. "I can't find my emergency case, and Cornie Dean
never was known to keep anything of the sort. All the other rooms are so
upset I knew it was of no use to apply to them."

Happy that such an opportunity had come at last and that she could
supply the demand, Mary examined the injured finger and began to trim a
strip of plaster the required size. At the moment of cutting herself
Dorene had dropped the broken glass, but for some unaccountable reason
had thrust the frame under her arm, and was holding it hugged tight to
her side by her elbow. Now as she put out her hand for Mary's
inspection, she sat down on the edge of the bed, and let the frame slip
from her grasp to the counterpane. The photograph side lay uppermost,
and Mary, glancing at it casually, gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Why, it's _Betty_! Betty Lewis! Do _you_ know her?"

"Well, rather!" was the emphatic answer. "She was my crush all my
Freshman year. I suppose you know what that means if you've ever had a
case yourself. I simply adored her, and could hardly bear to come back
the next year because she was graduated and gone. I haven't seen her
since, but you can imagine my delight when I found her name in this
year's catalogue, as one of the teachers. We never imagined she'd teach,
for she has such a wonderful gift for writing; but it will be simply
delightful to have her back again. She's such a dear. But where did
_you_ happen to know her?" she added as an afterthought. "Are you from
Lloydsboro Valley, too?"

"No, but I visited there once at Lloyd Sherman's home where Betty lives.
Lloyd's mother is Betty's god-mother, you know, and Betty's mother was