sad daughter wailed and wept, while her companions
looked on helplessly.

"But you will let me be you friend," pleaded Dorothy. "Try to think it
will all come right some day--every sorrow must unfold some blessing--"

"My friend!" and Viola looked with that same sharp glance that her
mother had shown--that queer glare at Dorothy. "Dorothy Dale, you do
not know what you are talking about!"

And every girl present had reason to remember this strange remark when
days at Glenwood school proved their meaning.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CATEGORY

"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Tavia, shaking out her blue dress, and
tying a worn handkerchief over its particular closet hook so that no
hump would appear in the soft blue texture. "I never would believe
boarding school was such fun. Here comes Rose-Mary with more Nicks to
introduce. I hear her laughing--hasn't she got the jolliest little
giggle--like our brook when it bubbles over."

"I wish, Tavia, you would confine your wardrobe to your own half of the
closet," Dorothy remonstrated, as she took down several articles that
had "crossed the line."

"Oh, I will, dear, only I was just listening to what those girls were
saying. I thought I heard Viola's voice. Isn't it strange she does
not call on us. I told her our room was Number Nineteen."

"I suppose she's busy, every one appears to be except Rose-Mary. She
doesn't seem to mind whether her trunk is unpacked first day or on
Christmas," said Dorothy, working diligently at her own baggage.

"I would just love to go the rounds with her," declared Tavia, "if you
did not insist upon going right to work. I would rather have fun now
and unpack later."

"But there is no later. We must go to bed at eight thirty, my dear,
and we have no time to spare. School will begin to-morrow."

"All the more reason why we should have the fun now," persisted Tavia,
who was nevertheless getting her clothes on the hooks in short order.
"There! I'm all hung up," she declared, banging the closet door
furiously, in spite of Dorothy's hat box trying to stop it.

"But your hats," Dorothy reminded her. "They have got to go on that
shelf, and there isn't an inch of room left."

"Then I'll just stick the box under the bed," calmly remarked the new
girl, making a kick at the unlucky box and following it up to the
"goal."

"Against the rules," announced Dorothy, pointing to a typewritten
notice on the door. "Read!"

"Haven't time. You