, but who seemed unapproachable because she was really
shy and very conscious of her unusual height; and then there was
Florence Newman who had seemed at the beginning of the term so
unresponsive and dull. Florence and Josephine had become friends, drawn
together by love for their far-away Western homes, and dropping into
Florence's room one day with Josephine, Judith had been entranced by the
tales of mountain climbing and hunting which Florence had to tell.
Florence had scarcely seen a girl of her own age until she dropped
suddenly into the hurly-burly of York Hill, and it was no wonder that a
painful shyness had made her seem ungracious and almost rude. She simply
hadn't known how to meet the advances of these kind, jolly girls.

And then there was Miss Ashwell. Miss Ashwell had slipped on the ice a
couple of months before and had sprained her ankle so badly that,
although she was able now to get up and down to the studio, she walked
slowly and with a cane. Judith got into the way of knocking at Miss
Ashwell's door after lunch to see if she could do any errand for her.
Sometimes she carried her books up to the studio, or ran downstairs to
see if there were any word of the model who was to come for the
two-thirty class, and sometimes she went in and sat in Miss Ashwell's
comfortable chair and felt rested and happy, for Miss Ashwell seemed to
possess some curious secret of healing.

Judith was a beauty-lover, and if any one had asked her why she liked
Miss Ashwell, she would probably have replied promptly, "Because she is
so pretty." Miss Ashwell _was_ pretty, with her clear blue eyes,
gold-brown hair, and a skin so fair and soft, that it made one think of
apple-blossoms; and she had charm, that indefinable something, which
like a magnet drew others to her.

The week after the miserable dinner-party was rainy and cold, and
something of the grey dulness out-of-doors seemed to have penetrated
within. For Judith, at least, the mornings dragged heavily; everything
seemed to have lost its flavour. At recess she would look over at Nancy,
who seemed to be having a jolly time with Sally May and Joyce, and want
to join them and laugh, too. There wasn't any reason in the world why
she shouldn't do so except the nasty little spirit which had taken
possession of her. But she hardened her heart--and was quite miserable
in consequence.

Towards the end of the week, one day after lunch she stood hesitating
for a moment at the hea