should like to live in a big city."

"I like Friendship. It only seems a little odd, you know," Rosalind
hastened to add. "Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your
house?"

"Why, of course, I can go in whenever I choose. My father is the cashier,
and it is to take care of the bank that we live here."

The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind.
After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the grass where she had been
lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward
him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was
a handsome hook. "Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A.
Sargent," he read. "Why, it is one of Shakespeare's plays," he said, in
surprise. So this was the story Rosalind was talking about.

On the fly-leaf was some writing in small clear letters. "For Rosalind,
with the wish that she may meet the hard things of life as bravely, and
find as much happiness by the way, as did her namesake in the Forest of
Arden. From her friend, Louis A. Sargent."

"Meet the hard things of life as bravely--" Maurice's face grew hot. "You
wouldn't have thought there was any good in that." The touch of scorn in
Rosalind's tone stung as he recalled it. He turned the leaves and began to
read.

It was a pleasure to look at the large clear type; he soon became
interested.