nsel and advice to the "freshman babies."

As Marjorie's dearest friend, to Mary had been accorded the honor of
giving the farewell toast, "Aufwiedersehen," and the presentation of the
pin. Mary's clear voice trembled slightly as she began the little speech
which she had composed and learned for the occasion. Then her faltering
tones gathered strength, and before she realized that she was actually
making a speech, she had reached the most important part of it and was
saying, "We wish you to keep and wear this remembrance of our good will
throughout your school life in Sanford. We hope you will make new
friends, and we ask only that you won't forget the old."

"I can't begin to tell you how much I thank you all," Marjorie
responded, her tones not quite steady, her face lighted with a fond
pride that lay very near to tears. "I shall love my butterfly all my
life, and never forget that you gave it to me. I am going to call it my
talisman, and I am sure it will bring me good luck."

But neither the givers nor Marjorie Dean could possibly guess that, in
the days to come, the beautiful golden butterfly was to prove anything
but a talisman to the popular little freshman.

CHAPTER III

THE GIRL WHO LOOKED LIKE MARY

"It's rather nice to have so much room, but I know I shall never feel
quite at home here," murmured Marjorie Dean, under her breath, as she
came slowly down the steps of her new home and paused for a moment in
the middle of the stone walk which led to the street. Her wistful glance
strayed over the stretch of lawn, still green, then turned to rest on
the house, a comfortable three-story structure of wood, painted dark
green, with lighter green trimmings. Her mother's sudden appearance at
the window caused Marjorie to retrace her steps. Luncheon was ready.

"Everything is so different," she sighed, as she climbed the steps she
had so lately descended. "I've been here a week, and I haven't met a
single girl. I don't believe there are any girls in this neighborhood. I
should feel a good deal worse, too, if the Franklin girls hadn't been
such dears!" Marjorie's last comment, spoken half aloud, referred to the
numerous letters she had received since her arrival in the town of
Sanford from her Franklin High School friends, now so many miles away.
Mary Raymond had not only fulfilled her promise to write one long letter
every week, but had mailed Marjorie, almost daily, hurriedly-written
little notes full of