There was one part of her experience, however, that Elizabeth passed over

lightly, and that was the meeting with George Trescott Benedict.

Instinctively she felt that this experience would not find a sympathetic

listener. She passed it over by merely saying that she had met a kind

gentleman from the East who was lost, and that they had ridden together

for a few miles until they reached a town; and he had telegraphed to his

friends, and gone on his way. She said nothing about the money he had lent

to her, for she shrank from speaking about him more than was necessary.

She felt that her grandmother might feel as the old woman of the ranch had

felt about their travelling together. She left it to be inferred that she

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might have had a little money with her from home. At least, the older

woman asked no questions about how she secured provisions for the way.

When Elizabeth came to her Chicago experience, her grandmother clasped her

hands as if a serpent had been mentioned, and said: "How degrading! You

certainly would have been justified in shooting the whole company. I

wonder such places are allowed to exist!" But Marie sat with large eyes of

wonder, and retailed the story over again in the kitchen afterwards for

the benefit of the cook and the butler, so that Elizabeth became

henceforth a heroine among them.

Elizabeth passed on to her Philadelphia experience, and found that here

her grandmother was roused to blazing indignation, but the thing that

roused her was the fact that a Bailey should serve behind a counter in a

ten-cent Store. She lifted her hands, and uttered a moan of real pain,

and went on at such a rate that the smelling-salts had to be brought into

requisition again.

When Elizabeth told of her encounter with the manager in the cellar, the

grandmother said: "How disgusting! The impertinent creature! He ought to

be sued. I will consult the lawyer about the matter. What did you say his

name was? Marie, write that down. And so, dear, you did quite right to

come to me. I've been looking at you while you talked, and I believe

you'll be a pretty girl if you are fixed up. Marie, go to the telephone,

and call up Blandeaux, and tell him to send up a hair-dresser at once. I

want to see how Miss Elizabeth will look with her hair done low in one of

those new coils. I believe it will be becoming. I should have tried it

long ago myself; only it seems a trifle too youthful for hair that is

beginning to turn gray."

Elizabeth watched her grandmother in wonder. Here truly was a new phase of

woman. She did not care about great facts, but only about little things.

Her life was made up of the great pursuit of fashion, just like Lizzie's.

Were people in cities all alike? No, for he, the one man she had met in

the wilderness, had not seemed to care. Maybe, though, when he got back to

the city he did care. She sighed and turned toward the new grandmother.




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