She had lost track of the weeks or the months when she reached her first great city, the only one she had come near in her uncharted wanderings.

Into the outskirts of Chicago she rode undaunted, her head erect, with the carriage of a queen.  She had passed Indians and cowboys in her journeying; why should she mind Chicago?  Miles and miles of houses and people.  There seemed to be no end to it.  Nothing but houses everywhere and hurried-looking people, many of them working hard.  Surely this must be Philadelphia.

A large, beautiful building attracted her attention.  There were handsome grounds about it, and girls playing some game with a ball and curious webbed implements across a net of cords.  Elizabeth drew her horse to the side of the road, and watched a few minutes.  One girl was skilful, and hit the ball back every time.  Elizabeth almost exclaimed out loud once when a particularly fine ball was played.  She rode reluctantly on when the game was finished, and saw over the arched gateway the words, “Janeway School for Girls.”

Ah!  This was Philadelphia at last, and here was her school.  She would go in at once before she went to her grandmother’s.  It might be better.

She dismounted, and tied the horse to an iron ring in a post by the sidewalk.  Then she went slowly, shyly up the steps into the charmed circles of learning.  She knew she was shabby, but her long journey would explain that.  Would they be kind to her, and let her study?

She stood some time before the door, with a group of laughing girls not far away whispering about her.  She smiled at them; but they did not return the salutation, and their actions made her more shy.  At last she stepped into the open door, and a maid in cap and apron came forward.  “You must not come in here, miss,” she said imperiously.  “This is a school.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth gravely, smiling.  “I want to see the teacher.”

“She’s busy.  You can’t see her,” snapped the maid.

“Then I will wait till she is ready.  I’ve come a great many miles, and I must see her.”

The maid retreated at this, and an elegant woman in trailing black silk and gold-rimmed glasses approached threateningly.  This was a new kind of beggar, of course, and must be dealt with at once.

“What do you want?” she asked frigidly.

“I’ve come to school,” said Elizabeth confidingly.  “I know I don’t look very nice, but I’ve had to come all the way from Montana on horseback.  If you could let me go where I can have some water and a thread and needle, I can make myself look better.”

The woman eyed the girl incredulously.

“You have come to school!” she said; and her voice was large, and frightened Elizabeth.  “You have come all the way from Montana!  Impossible!  You must be crazy.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not crazy,” said Elizabeth.  “I just want to go to school.”

The woman perceived that this might be an interesting case for benevolently inclined people.  It was nothing but an annoyance to herself.  “My dear girl,”—­her tone was bland and disagreeable now,—­“are you aware that it takes money to come to school?”