to, or whether she had
really expected and desired dalliance on his part--here was the
truth as to her hidden yearning. The seething and terrible Renaissance
of the modern girl seemed remarkably exemplified in Bessy Bell, yet
underneath it all hid the fundamental instinct of all women of all
ages. Bessy wanted most to be loved. Was that the secret of her
departure from the old-fashioned canons of modesty and reserve?

"Bessy," went on Lane, presently. "I've heard my sister speak of Rose
Clymer. Is she a friend of yours, too?"

"You bet. And she's the square kid."

"Lorna told me she'd been expelled from school."

"Yes. She refused to tattle."

"Tattle what?"

"I wrote some verses which one of the girls copied. Miss Hill found
them and raised the roof. She kept us all in after school. She let
some of the girls off. But she expelled Rose and sent me home. Then
she called on mama. I don't know what she said, but mama didn't let me
go back. I've had a hateful old tutor for a month. In the fall I'm
going to private school."

"And Rose?"

"Rose went to work. She had a hard time. I never heard from her for
weeks. But she's a telephone operator at the Exchange now. She called
me up one day lately and told me. I hope to see her soon."

"About those verses, Bessy. How did Miss Hill find out who wrote
them?"

"I told her. Then she sent me home."

"Have you any more verses you wrote?"

"Yes, a lot of them. If you lend me your pencil, I'll write out the
verse that gave Miss Hill heart disease."

Bessy took up a book that had been lying on the seat, and tearing out
the fly-leaf, she began to write. Her slim, shapely hand flew. It
fascinated Lane.

"There!" she said, ending with a flourish and a smile.

But Lane, foreshadowing the import of the verse, took the page with
reluctance. Then he read it. Verses of this significance were new to
him. Relief came to Lane in the divination that Bessy could not have
had experience of what she had written. There was worldliness in the
verse, but innocence in her eyes.

"Well, Bessy, my heart isn't much stronger than Miss Hill's," he said,
finally.

Her merry laughter rang out.

"Bessy, what will you do for me?"

"Anything."

"Bring me every scrap of verse you have, every note you've got from
boys and girls."

"Shall I get them now?"

"Yes, if it's safe. Of course, you've hidden them."

"Mama's out. I won't be a minute."

Away she flew under the trees, out throug