“Is it a riddle?” asked Glory.
“Oh, don't you understand? I thought you must, because I did! I mean I'm hoping to pass the examinations for the next grade next summer. That's just what I'm doing, Glory Wetherell.”
“Why, that's nothing! I am going to pass, too. If I get through the seminary I am going to Smith College some day.”
“And if I pass for the eighth grade I'm going to keep right on studying for the first grade in high-school. Miss Clem says I can. I talked with her the other night. She says she'll help. Oh, Glory, there is no end to this road you have started me on.”
“I am glad,” said Glory. “Auntie says for folks to keep on when they're doing well enough, and not fret about the other end of the road. One never knows what's on ahead or what may happen.”
“And if I ever get to be anybody, Glory Wetherell, remember it's you who started me.”
After a while the subdued chattering ceased, and the two girls fell asleep, Glory to dream that she and her new friend graduated together from the Centre Town Seminary, in beautiful twin white dresses, and that Aunt Hope was there and clapped her thin, white hands (but they were round and pink-tinted in the dream) when she heard Glory's valedictory.
The Other Girl's dream was of longed-for luxuries for the patient mother and legs that matched for Tiny Tim. Both dreams came to an end in a startling way.
[Chapter VI.]
Glory and Diantha were awakened from their rosy dreams by a sharp voice calling, “Fire! Fire!” They started up in affright, only to find little Timmie perched on the foot of the bed, crying monotonously, “Fire! Fire!” and interspersing his fire-alarm with brisk drummings of his crutch against the footboard. But though he had alarmed the girls, he himself did not look alarmed.