"Even in that case you would need a chaperon," Katherine objected.
"Well, Mr. Farnsworth wants me to go to his sister in Genesee County. She's a stiff, little old maid who lives by herself, and he says if I will not go to Europe I must stay with her. But I might as well be shut up in a convent, and—I won't," and there was a resonant note of defiance in Miss Minot's voice as she concluded.
"But what is your objection to the European trip, Sadie? I should think you would like it; I am sure you could have no better opportunity than to go with the Farnsworths," argued Katherine, who was more and more perplexed by her roommate's strange caprice.
"Oh! well, I'm not going, anyway, and that settles the matter!" sharply retorted the girl from the depths of her trunk, but her voice was thick with tears.
Katherine suddenly sat erect, a startled expression sweeping over her face. She dropped the subject, but before an hour had passed a hastily written, special delivery missive was on its way to Mrs. Minturn.
The next evening, after supper, she burst into her room, her face beaming with joy, an open letter in her hand, to find Sadie drooping over a note she had been writing and nibbling at the stem of her pen, apparently in the most disconsolate frame of mind.
She hastily drew a blank sheet of paper over the written page to hide it, a circumstance which did not escape the observing eye of her chum, and, looking over her shoulder, inquired:
"What is it, Katherine? You look as if you'd had good news."
"I have—at least good news to me, and I hope it will be to you also," was the cheery reply.
Sadie sat up and looked interested.