ory, and if you wanted to get almost prehistoric, you went
back to Lewis and Clarke, and the Jesuit explorers.

"Why, back at Gilead," Kit told him, "even the mounting stone at Cousin
Roxy's had 1721 on it."

The college was built of gray field stone covered with climbing woodbine
and Virginia creeper, and it dominated the little town. There were five
buildings in the campus group, the main building, laboratory, library and
gymnasium, boys' dormitory, and chapel.

Kit never forgot the first morning when the classes met in Assembly Hall,
and the Dean addressed them on the work and aims of the coming year. For
the life of her, she could not keep her mind on all he was saying or the
solemnity of the moment, because, just at the very last minute when the
chapel chimes stopped ringing, Marcelle Beaubien entered through the dark
green swinging doors at the back of the big, crowded hall. It seemed as
though every one's eyes were watching the platform, but Kit saw the
slender, silent figure standing there alone. She was dressed in black, a
thin black lawn, with collar and cuffs of dark red linen, and her heavy
brown hair was braided in two long plaits down her back. She waited there,
it seemed to Kit, expectant on the threshold of opportunity, not knowing
which way to go, and without a friendly hand extended to her in welcome or
guidance.

Norma Riggs, who sat next to Kit, glanced back to see what had attracted
her attention, and made a funny little deprecating sound with her mouth.

"I never thought she'd have the nerve to really do it," she whispered.
"Isn't she odd?"

A quick impulsive wave of indignation swept over Kit, and she rose from
her seat, passing straight down the aisle without even being aware of the
curious glances which followed her. She took Marcelle by storm.

"You're in my class, aren't you?" she whispered quickly. "It's right over
here, and there's a seat beside me. I don't know any one either, and I'm
so glad to see you, so I'll have some one to talk to."

Marcelle never answered, but smiled with a quick flash of appreciation,
the smile which always seemed to illumine her rather grave face. She
followed Kit back to the latter's seat, and Norma exchanged glances with
her right-hand neighbor, Amy Parker. Kit was altogether too new to
realize just exactly what she had done. Being the Dean's grandniece, she
considered herself unconsciously a privileged person. As a matter of
course, Miss Daphne had acco