“Mr. Miller—­dear sir:—­

“This money has been contributed, by Draxy’s friends.  You do not know how much we all prize and esteem your daughter and wish to help her.  I hope you will be willing that she should use this money for the journey on which her heart is so set.  I really advise you as a friend to let her make the effort to recover that money; I think she will get it.

“Truly, your friend,

“A.  White.”

This note brought tears of pride to Reuben’s eyes.  Draxy watched him closely, and said:—­

“Father dear, I should like to go to-morrow.”

Her preparations had already been made.  She knew beforehand that her cause was won; that her father’s sense of justice would not let him interfere with her use of the gift for the purpose for which it was made.

It was on a clear cold morning in January that Draxy set out.  It was the second journey of her life, and she was alone for the first time; but she felt no more fear than if she had been a sparrow winging its way through a new field.  The morning twilight was just fading away; both the east and the west were clear and glorious; the east was red, and the west pale blue; high in the west stood the full moon, golden yellow; below it a long narrow bar of faint rose-color; below that, another bar of fainter purple; then the low brown line of a long island; then an arm of the sea; the water was gray and still; the ice rims stretched far out from the coast, and swayed up and down at the edges, as the waves pulsed in and out.  Flocks of gulls were wheeling, soaring in the air, or lighting and floating among the ice fragments, as cold and snowy as they.  Draxy leaned her head against the side of the car and looked out on the marvelous beauty of the scene with eyes as filled with calm delight as if she had all her life journeyed for pleasure, and had had nothing to do but feed and develop her artistic sense.

A company of travelling actors sat near her; a dozen tawdry women and coarse men, whose loud voices and vulgar jests made Draxy shudder.  She did not know what they could be; she had never seen such behavior; the men took out cards and began to play; the women leaned over, looked on, and clapped the men on their shoulders.  Draxy grew afraid, and the expression of distress on her face attracted the conductor’s notice.  He touched her on the shoulder.

“I’ll take you into the next car, Miss, if you don’t like to be near these people.  They’re only actors; there’s no harm in them, but they’re a rough set.”

“Actors,” said Draxy, as the kind conductor lifted her from one platform to another.  “I never thought they were like that.  Do they play Shakespeare?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said the conductor, puzzled enough:  “but I dare say they do.”

“Then I’m glad I never went to the theatre,” thought Draxy, as she settled herself in her new seat.  For a few moments she could not banish her disturbed and unhappy feeling.  She could not stop fancying some of the grand words which she most loved in Shakespeare, repeated by those repulsive voices.