"Who?" asked Edith surprised. Following Betty's gaze, she saw entering the other side of the church, a rather tall mannish looking woman.
"Why, it's Mrs. Catt! That dear Mrs. Catt that I told you about!" she exclaimed in a delighted whisper. "See! Dr. McLeod is taking her to the platform. May I go and speak with her?"
"Why, yes,—I suppose—" and before Edith could say more, Betty had started for the platform with enthusiasm quite oblivious to onlookers.
Mrs. Catt had just taken a seat besides the minister, when she looked up to see Betty draw near, with both hands outstretched.
"O, Mrs. Catt! Is it really you! Don't you know me? Betty Emmit, of Ephraim, Utah? Betty, your little girl of eight years ago?"
Dr. McLeod looked on, amazed and interested. He saw the color rise to the temples of the worthy Mrs. Catt, and perceived the nervous twitching of her thin lips.
For a moment she regarded Betty coldly. Then with wonderful self-control, she smiled brightly as she took the girls hands in hers.
"Why, of course, I do! Betty Emmit! Well, well, how you have grown, and what are you doing in New York, Betty?"
"I'm on a mission for the Church. And you?"
Mrs. Catt looked at Dr. McLeod and smiled.