houses, all alike, but a cheery, not monotonous, row, with the maples in
front, and Victoria University at the end of the street. A plump, cheery
landlady saw Beth to her room, and, once alone, she did just what
hundreds of other girls have done in her place--sat down on that big
trunk and wept, and wondered what "dear old daddy" was doing. But she
soon controlled herself, and looked around the room. It was a very
pretty room, with rocker and table, and a book-shelf in the corner.
There was a large window, too, opening to the south, with a view of St.
Michael's College and St. Basil's Church. Beth realized that this room
was to be her home for the coming months, and, kneeling down, she asked
that the presence of Christ might hallow it.

She was not a very close follower of Christ, but the weakest child of
God never breathed a prayer unheard.

It was such a pleasant treat when Marie tapped at the door just before
tea. It would be nice to have Marie there all winter. Beth looked around
the tea-table at the new faces: Mrs. Owen, at one end of the table,
decidedly stout; Mr. Owen, at the other end, decidedly lean. There were
two sweet-faced children, a handsome, gloomy-browed lawyer, and Marie at
her side.

The next day, Clarence took Beth over to 'Varsity--as Toronto University
is popularly called--and she never forgot that bright autumn morning
when she passed under the arch of carved stone into the University
halls, those long halls thronged with students. Clarence left her in the
care of a gentle fourth-year girl. Beth was taken from lecturer to
lecturer until the registering was done, and then she stopped by one of
the windows in the ladies' dressing-room to gaze at the beautiful autumn
scenery around--the ravine, with its dark pines, and the Parliament