“Does it?” said Elizabeth.  “No, I didn’t know it, but I have some money.  I could give you ten dollars right now; and, if that is not enough, I might work some way, and earn more.”

The woman laughed disagreeably.

“It is impossible,” she said.  “The yearly tuition here is five hundred dollars.  Besides, we do not take girls of your class.  This is a finishing school for young ladies.  You will have to inquire further,” and the woman swept away to laugh with her colleagues over the queer character, the new kind of tramp, she had just been called to interview.  The maid came pertly forward, and said that Elizabeth could not longer stand where she was.

Bewilderment and bitter disappointment in her face, Elizabeth went slowly down to her horse, the great tears welling up into her eyes.  As she rode away, she kept turning back to the school grounds wistfully.  She did not notice the passers-by, nor know that they were commenting upon her appearance.  She made a striking picture in her rough garments, with her wealth of hair, her tanned skin, and tear-filled eyes.  An artist noticed it, and watched her down the street, half thinking he would follow and secure her as a model for his next picture.

A woman, gaudily bedecked in soiled finery, her face giving evidence of the frequent use of rouge and powder, watched her, and followed, pondering.  At last she called, “My dear, my dear, wait a minute.”  She had to speak several times before Elizabeth saw that she was talking to her.  Then the horse was halted by the sidewalk.

“My dear,” said the woman, “you look tired and disappointed.  Don’t you want to come home with me for a little while, and rest?”

“Thank you,” said Elizabeth, “but I am afraid I must go on.  I only stop on Sundays.”

“But just come home with me for a little while,” coaxed the wheedling tones.  “You look so tired, and I’ve some girls of my own.  I know you would enjoy resting and talking with them.”

The kindness in her tones touched the weary girl.  Her pride had been stung to the quick by the haughty woman in the school.  This woman would soothe her with kindness.

“Do you live far from here?” asked Elizabeth.

“Only two or three blocks,” said the woman.  “You ride along by the sidewalk, and we can talk.  Where are you going?  You look as if you had come a long distance.”

“Yes,” said the girl wearily, “from Montana.  I am going to school.  Is this Philadelphia?”

“This is Chicago,” said the woman.  “There are finer schools here than in Philadelphia.  If you like to come and stay at my house awhile, I will see about getting you into a school.”

“Is it hard work to get people into schools?” asked the girl wonderingly.  “I thought they would want people to teach.”

“No, it’s very hard,” said the lying woman; “but I think I know a school where I can get you in.  Where are your folks?  Are they in Montana?”