Again the verse came-- "If she's not here to take your part--go choose another with all your heart!" I heard wheels then, nearer than the singing,--the clumsy rumble of our big yellow 'bus.

Voices were borne to me,--Clem's voice, Miss Caroline's and another not like her's, a voice firmer, yet a dusky-warm woman's voice.

That was all I could think of at the time: perhaps the night suggested it; they had qualities in common.

It was a woman's voice, but a determined woman's.

I knew of course that Little Miss had come.