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Senator North

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define its outlines at close range. She had a shawl over her head, but her angular body was unmistakable. She was Miss Trumbull. Betty dropped the curtain and stared into the darkness. "Whom is she watching?" she thought. "Whom is she watching?" She went back to bed and listened intently. In half an hour she heard the same sound again. "She is going back to her room," thought Betty. "What has she seen?" The next morning she sent for Miss Trumbull to come to her room. She had no intention of asking her to sit down, but the woman did not wait to be invited. She took a chair and fanned herself with a palm leaf that she picked from the table. "Lawsy, but it's hot," she said. "I had a long argument with Miss Walker yesterday about New York State bein' hotter 'n down South, and she wouldn't believe it. But I usually know what I'm talkin' about, and hotter it is. I near lost my temper, for I guess I know when it's hot--" "What were you doing on the roof of the veranda last night?" asked Betty, abruptly. Miss Trumbull turned the dark ugly red of her embarrassed condition. "I--" she stammered. "I saw you. Whom were you watching?" "I warn't watchin' anybody. I was takin' a walk. I couldn't sleep." "You know perfectly well that the roof of a veranda is not intended to be walked on. Your curiosity is insufferable. I suppose it has become professional. Or are you hoping for blackmail? If so, the hotel is the place for you." This time Miss Trumbull turned purple. "I like money as well as anybody, I guess," she stuttered; 'but I'd never sell a secret to get it. I ain't low down and despicable if I am poor." "Then you admit it is mere curiosity? I would rather you stole." "Well, I don't steal, thank heaven. And I don't see any harm in tryin' to know what's goin' on in the world." "Read the newspapers and let your neighbours alone, at all events the people in this house. I have twice seen you reading over the addresses of the letters of the outgoing mail. Don't you ever do it again. You are a good housekeeper, but if I find you attending to anything but your own business, once more, you go on the moment. That is all I have to say." The woman left the room hurriedly. An hour or two later Betty met Harriet on the terrace. "I am sorry to appear to be always admonishing you," she said, "but I must ask you to have nothing more to do with Miss Trumbull." "I don't want to have anything more to do with her, honey. She has taken to arguing with me in that long self-satisfied drawl, and I have 'most got to hate her. I wouldn't mind so much if she was ever right, but she is a downright fool, and I reckon all fools are pretty much alike. And I have a horrible idea that she suspects something. I have seen her staring at my finger-nails two or three times. And I am 'most sure some one has gone through the little trunk I keep my letters in. Of course the key is always in my purse, but she may have had one that fits, and the things are not like I left them, I am 'most sure." "She probably envies your finger-nails, and the trunk, doubtless, was upset in travelling. Besides, I don't think she's malignant. Like most underbred persons, she is curious, and she has cultivated the trait until it has become a disease." "But there's no knowing what she might do if she took a dislike to me. She's not bad-hearted at all, but she could be spiteful, and I can't and won't stand her any longer. I reckon I'd like to go to Europe, anyhow. I feel as if every one was guessing my secret. Over there you say they don't mind those things, and I'd enjoy being in that kind of a place." "Go, by all means. I'll write at once and inquire about a chaperon--" "Oh, I don't want to go just yet. September will do. I reckon these mountains are about as cool at this time of the year as anywhere, and they make me feel strong." She added abruptly: "Does Sally suspect?" Betty nodded. "Yes, she surprised the truth out of me. I am more sorry--" Harriet had gripped her arm with both hands. Her face was ghastly. "She knows? She knows?" she gasped. "Then she will tell him. Oh! Why was I ever born?" Betty made her sit down and took her head in her arms. Harriet was weeping with more passion than she ever had seen her display. "You believe me always, don't you?" she said. "For Miss Trumbull I cannot answer, but for Sally I can--positively. She never would do a mean and ignoble thing." "She loves him!" That is the more reason for not telling him. Cannot you understand high-mindedness?" "Oh, yes. You are high-minded, and _he_--that is the reason I should die if he found out; for he hates, he loathes deceit. Oh, I've grown to hate this country. I love you, but I'd like to forget that it was ever on the map. I wish I was coal black and had been born in Africa." "Why don't you go there and live, set up a sort of court?" asked Betty, seized with an inspiration. "And live among niggers? I despise and abhor niggers! If one put his dirty black paw on me, I'd 'most kill him!" Betty turned away her head to conceal a smile; but Harriet, who was wholly without humour, continued: "Betty, honey, I want you to promise me that if I ever do anything to disappoint you, you'll forgive me. I love you so I couldn't bear to have you despise me." "What have you been doing?" asked Betty, anxiously. "Nothing, honey," replied Harriet, promptly. "I mean if I did." "Don't do anything that requires forgiveness. It makes life so much simpler not to. And remember the promise you made me." "Oh, I don't reckon I'll ever forget that." IX Senator North started for Washington that afternoon. Betty did not see him again. He did not write, but she hardly expected that he would. He had remarked once that two-thirds of all the trouble in the world came out of letters, and Betty, with Miss Trumbull in mind, was inclined to agree with him. He would not return for a fortnight. On Friday, very late, Senator Burleigh arrived. He was on the Finance Committee, but had written that he should break his chains for this brief holiday if he never had another. He had sent her two boxes of flowers since her return, and had written her a large number of brief, emphatic, but impersonal letters during her sojourn in California. He looked big and breezy and triumphant as he entered the living-room,

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