ly before Betty's tactful advances and Madeline's appreciative
references to her verses in the last "Argus."

While Helen made the tea, Miss Carter amused them all with a droll
account of her efforts to learn to play basket-ball, "because Miss
Adams says it throws so much light on the philosophy of college life."

"Then you never played before you came here?" asked Betty idly, stirring
her tea.

Miss Carter shook her head. "I prepared for college in a convent in
Canada. The sisters would have been horribly shocked at the idea of our
tearing about in bloomers and throwing a ball just like the boys."

"Oh!" said Betty, with a sudden flash of recognition. "Then it was at
the convent where you got the beautiful French accent that mademoiselle
raves over. You're in my senior French class. I ought to have remembered
you."

"I'm glad you didn't," said Miss Carter bitterly, and then she flushed
and apologized. "I'm so ugly that I'm always glad not to be remembered
or noticed. But I didn't mean to say so, and I do hope you'll come to
see me, both of you,--if seniors ever do come to see sophomores."

The girls laughingly assured her that seniors did sometimes condescend
so far, and she went off with a happy look in her great gray eyes.

"We must have her in the 'Merry Hearts,'" said Madeline. "She's our kind
if she can only get over that morbid feeling about her scar."

"But we must be very careful," Helen warned them, with a vivid
remembrance of her first interview with Miss Carter. "We mustn't ask her
to join until most of us have been to see her and really made friends.
She would just hate to feel that we pitied her."

"We'll be careful," Betty promised her. "I'll go to see her, for one,
the very first of next week," and she skipped gaily off to dress for
dinner. After all there were plenty of things in the world besides the
class play with its unhappy tangle of rivalries and heartburnings.

"And what's the use of borrowing trouble?" Betty inquired the next
evening of the green lizard. "If you do, you never borrow the right
kind."

Jean, to be sure, had done a good deal to justify Bob's theory. She had
remembered an urgent message from home which must be delivered to Polly
immediately after luncheon, and she kept her innocent little cousin
busily engaged in conversation in the lower hall of the Belden House
until Betty appeared, having waited until the very last minute in the
vain hope of avoiding Jean. But when th