"And I'm sure he'll be true and
grateful."
"I really need him, Beth," said the boy. "There is getting to be too
much correspondence for Mr. Watson to attend to, and I ought to relieve
him of many other details. It's a good arrangement, and I'm glad I
thought of it."
They had almost reached Elmhurst when they met the Honorable Erastus
Hopkins driving along the road. On the seat beside him was a young girl,
and as the vehicles passed each other Beth gave a start and clung to the
boy's arm.
"Oh, Ken!" she cried, "did you see? Did you see that?"
"Yes; it's my respected adversary."
"But the girl! It's Lucy--I'm sure it's Lucy! She's the living image of
Mrs. Rogers! Stop--stop--and let's go back!"
"Nonsense, Beth," said the boy. "It can't be."
"But it is. I'm sure it is!"
"I saw the girl," he said. "She was laughing gaily and talking with the
Honorable Erastus. Is that your idea of the mad, broken-hearted Lucy
Rogers?"
"N-no. She _was_ laughing, Ken, I noticed it."
"And she wasn't unhappy a bit. You mustn't think that every pretty girl
with dark eyes you meet is Lucy Rogers, you know. And there's another
thing."
"What, Ken?"
"Any companion of Mr. Hopkins can be easily traced."
"That's true," answered the girl, thoughtfully.
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