“You saw me there! Did the—did Mrs. Bruce?”
Betsy shook her head. “No; and she hasn’t yet; but I was thinkin’ about you as we came up to the stage, and when all of a sudden I saw you, I thought I’d get in here.”
The Nixon party were directly in front of them, and the Bruces in the next seat, and all were conversing busily among themselves.
“I’m so glad to see you, Betsy, that I can hardly bear it;” and a bright tear rolled swiftly down Rosalie’s cheek, as she leaned back in her corner to regain her self-control.
“I’ve thought about you considerable,” returned Betsy, “and I haven’t been any too easy.”
“I told Mrs. Pogram, I promised her, that if I were in any trouble I would write. How kind of you!” with a sudden burst of gratitude and a continued clinging to Betsy’s slender fingers. “How kind of you to care!”
“Of course I cared, child,” returned the other.
“And you saw me being a waitress!”
“Yes. First-rate idea for college boys,” answered Betsy quietly. “It’s quite the fashion for a lot of ’em to help themselves through school that way. I don’t know about it exactly for girls in a strange land,—little country girls that don’t know anything about the world; I don’t know whether I like it or not.”