"One thing more," said the professor. "You may pay your tuition
quarterly. You need not bother about the first instalment this month.
Any time in October will do."

It seemed as if Elnora's gasp of relief must have reached the soles of
her brogans.

"Did any one ever tell you how beautiful you are!" she cried.

As the professor was lank, tow-haired and so near-sighted, that he
peered at his pupils through spectacles, no one ever had.

"No," said Professor Henley, "I've waited some time for that; for which
reason I shall appreciate it all the more. Come now, or we shall be late
for opening exercises."

So Elnora entered the auditorium a second time. Her face was like the
brightest dawn that ever broke over the Limberlost. No matter about the
lumbering shoes and skimpy dress. No matter about anything, she had the
books. She could take them home. In her garret she could commit them to
memory, if need be. She could prove that clothes were not all. If the
Bird Woman did not want any of the many different kinds of specimens she
had collected, she was quite sure now she could sell ferns, nuts, and a
great many things. Then, too, a girl made a place for her that morning,
and several smiled and bowed. Elnora forgot everything save her books,
and that she was where she could use them intelligently--everything
except one little thing away back in her head. Her mother had known
about the books and the tuition, and had not told her when she agreed to
her coming.