As she went down the long hall she noticed the professor of mathematics
standing in the door of his recitation room. When she passed him he
smiled and spoke to her.

"I have been watching for you," he said, and Elnora stopped bewildered.

"For me?" she questioned.

"Yes," said Professor Henley. "Step inside."

Elnora followed him into the room and closed the door behind them.

"At teachers' meeting last evening, one of the professors mentioned
that a pupil had betrayed in class that she had expected her books to be
furnished by the city. I thought possibly it was you. Was it?"

"Yes," breathed Elnora.

"That being the case," said Professor Henley, "it just occurred to me as
you had expected that, you might require a little time to secure
them, and you are too fine a mathematician to fall behind for want of
supplies. So I telephoned one of our Sophomores to bring her last year's
books this morning. I am sorry to say they are somewhat abused, but the
text is all here. You can have them for two dollars, and pay when you
are ready. Would you care to take them?"

Elnora sat suddenly, because she could not stand another instant. She
reached both hands for the books, and said never a word. The professor
was silent also. At last Eleanor arose, hugging those books to her heart
as a mother clasps a baby.