"Just between ourselves, though, you must confess that it is a great relief to have her away."
"You can't begin to feel that as I do. I live again! I read my own books, think my own thoughts. I belong to myself. No one says, 'What's the matter?' 'Where are you going?' 'What makes you grave—or gay?' I sit and chat with my 'odd-fish.' I go to all kinds of meetings and discuss all kinds of 'isms, and have no tag-tail constantly asking 'Why?' 'Why?' or 'Tell me!' It's the little things that grind. The next time I try to help a young girl, I'll not risk losing my influence with her by taking her into my house. Do you know, Dave, I sometimes feel that Mary must have been my own child in a previous incarnation, and I neglected and abused her; that's why she was thrust back upon me this time, whether I liked it or not."
After Christmas Isabel decided that she must go up to Chicago to see Mary, and on her return thrilling was the account she gave of her experiences, which included an attendance at an autopsy—but upon that I shall not enlarge.
Introducing herself to the Superintendent of the School, she said:
"Can I have Miss Gemmell for two days at my hotel?"
"Indeed, no, madam. We are short of help, and it would be entirely against the rules."
"Then I'll stay here with her."
The Lady Superintendent looked distressed.
"Don't think us inhospitable, but there is absolutely no provision for guests in all this great building."
"Oh!" said Belle, unabashed. "I seem to be unfortunate in breaking, or wanting to break, the rules of this house. Now, will you kindly tell me what I can do? How can I see the very most of my Mary while I am in Chicago?"