neighbor's hand, all joined in the singing of
"Auld Lang Syne": cowboy and Indian princess, Redskin and Scotch lassie,
Canadian and Jap roared the familiar chorus, and having thus worked off
steam retired to their dormitories and went to bed without breaking
their pledge of good behavior. Rachel, returning from her round of
supervision, heaved a sigh of immense relief.

"I was dreading this evening," she confided to Sybil. "I was so afraid
they'd forget their promises and begin that rowdy teasing. I believe
we've broken the tradition of that, thank goodness. I hope it may never
be revived again."

"Thanks to the Anglo-Saxon League!"

"And may _that_ go on and flourish long after _we_ have left the Villa
Camellia," added Rachel.

CHAPTER XVIII

Greek Temples

The opening of the post-bag at the Villa Camellia, bearing as it did
missives from most quarters of the globe, was naturally a great daily
event. Some of the girls were lucky in the matter of correspondence--Peachy
received numerous letters--and others were not so highly favored. Poor
Lorna was generally left out altogether. Her father wrote to her
occasionally, but she had no other friend or relation to send her even a
post-card. She accepted the omission with the sad patience which was her
marked characteristic. Her affection for Irene had been an immense
factor in her school life this term, but she was still very different
from other girls, and kept her old barrier of shy reserve. Irene,
noticing Lorna's wistful look towards the post-bag, often tried to share
her correspondence with her buddy; she would show her all her picture
post-cards, briefly explaining who the writers were and to what their
allusions referred. At first Lorna had only been languidly polite over
them, but later she grew interested. Second-hand articles may not be as
good as your own, but they are better than nothing at all, and the
various items of news made topics for conversations and gave her a
glimpse of other people's homes.

Irene, finishing her budget one morning, sorted out any which she might
hand on to her chum.

"Not home letters--yours are sacred, Mummie darling!--and she wouldn't
care to hear about Aunt Doreen's attack of rheumatism. There are two
post-cards she may like, and this lovely long stave from Dona. Lorna,
dear! I've told you about my cousin Dona Anderson? She's at Brackenfield
College. She's older than I am, but somehow we've always been such
friend