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Yes, Aunt Bettie is right about Dr. John; he doesn't see a woman, and there is no way to make him. What she had said about it made me realise that he had always been like that, and I told myself that there was no reason in the world why my heart should beat in my slippers on that account. Still I don't see why Ruth Clinton should have her head literally thrown against that stone wall, and I wish Aunt Bettie wouldn't. It seemed like a desecration even to try to match-make him, and it made me hot with indignation all over. I dug so fiercely at the roots of my phlox with a trowel I had picked up that they groaned so loud I could almost hear them. I felt as if I must operate on something. And it was in this mood that Alfred's letter found me. Patricia toiled all that afternoon with the ardor of ignorance and hope. The others looked at her with occasional interest, but otherwise paid little attention to her. In the rests she went out to visit Elinor, or Elinor came in to watch her progress. Her head fairly swam with the delightful novelty of this new and quick-flowing life. When the last gong rang she heard it with regret. "Do you remember how we planned for this year?" said Patricia, her chin on her hand and her eyes on the leaping flame. "That was at Christmas time, only three short months ago, and we've all broken our plans already. David and Judy are the only ones who have stuck to theirs, and that is mainly because they can't help themselves. Here am I, studying at the Academy, after vowing I'd not waste money on myself at all. Elinor is dropping half her studies there and starting on an entirely new course—Interior Decoration and Stained Glass—under Mr. Bruce Haydon's personal supervision; and as for Mrs. Shelly and Miss Jinny—they are so far out of their plans I don't believe they'll ever get back into them again." Before Elinor could respond, she started to the door with an exclamation..