She picked it up with a light heart--she was young and she had slept.

Yesterday's strain had passed; she was ready to count yesterday's experience among the things that must be met.

Nadie had been so sensible about it.

This was a letter from home, and the American mail was not due until next day.

Inside there would be news of a little pleasure trip to New York, which her father and mother had been planning lately -- Elfrida constantly urged upon her parents the necessity of amusing themselves--and a remittance.