ion, unless invited. She often felt lonely at school, but her
shyness prevented her from making advances, and so far nobody had
offered her even the elements of friendship. It sometimes hurt her to
be thus entirely ignored and left out, but she had grown accustomed to
it, and, shutting herself up in her shell, she followed the motto of
the Miller of Dee:

"I care for nobody, no, not I,
Since nobody cares for me."

She was obliged to share in the daily games, which were compulsory for
all; but she never joined in the voluntary ones unless she were
specially asked to do so, to make up a side, and then she played with
an utter lack of enthusiasm. "Moonie", as the girls called her, was a
bookworm pure and simple. She had read almost every volume in the
school library; it did not matter whether it were biography, travels,
poetry, essays, or fiction, she would devour any literature that came
her way. She lived in an imaginary world, peopled by heroes and
heroines of romance, who often seemed more real to her than her
schoolmates, and certainly twice as interesting. Half the time she went
about in a dream, and even during lesson hours she would let her
thoughts drift far away to some exciting incident in a story, or some
mental picture of her own. It appeared as if Miss Maitland could not
have picked out two more opposite and unsuitable girls to share a
bedroom than Honor Fitzgerald and Janie Henderson; but she had good
reasons for her choice. Not only did she hope that Janie's sober ways
would steady Honor, but she also thought that Honor's high spirits
would have a leavening effect upon Janie, who was sadly in need of
stirring up.

"I wish I could shake the pair in a bag!" she confided to a
fellow-teacher. "It would be of the greatest advantage to both."

There was at least one compensation to Janie for being obliged to
change her quarters. No. 8, the room over the porch, was a special
sanctum, much coveted by all the other Chaddites. It was arranged to
accommodate only two, instead of four, and was the beau-ideal of every
pair of chums. It had a French window opening out on to a tiny balcony,
and, having been originally intended for one of the mistresses, was
furnished rather more luxuriously than the rest of the bedrooms. There
was a handsome wall-paper, a full-length mirror in the wardrobe, a
comfortable basket-chair, and also what appealed particularly to
Janie--a large and inviting bookcase, with glass door