d, as he said:

"Kit, you do not know what you have done. Some day the significance of
this occasion will recur to you. All I can say is that you have lifted the
veil of the past, and revealed the secret of Amenotaph."

CHAPTER XXII

HEADED FOR GILEAD

It was very hard for Kit to keep her mind on Orlando that evening, between
the excitement of the coming trip and the revelation of the urn. But after
it was over the girls clustered around her for one last send-off, and she
realized then how closely the ties of friendship had been cemented in her
few months at Hope.

She looked around at them with eyes filled with tears, and Kit was not at
all of the crying type, but it seemed as if each girl of her own special
crowd had filled a particular niche in her life for the time being. There
was Charity, with her eye-glasses, and placid face, upturned smiling lips
and quizzical eyes. How often she had taken the edge off Kit's rancor and
indignation with just a few timely, humorous words. Amy, Norma, Peggy, and
High Jinks had been the starters in all kinds of fun and recreation,
while Anne had seemed to come the nearest to her of them all in actual
comradeship. Then last of all, Marcelle. It was she who clasped Kit's
hand, as she repeated in her low voice:

"While the grass grows and the waters run, so long shall we be friends."

"For pity's sakes, girls," exclaimed Miss Daphne, "don't act as if you
were never going to see her again. I shall see that she comes back in
vacation next year, because the Dean and I couldn't possibly do without
her, now."

Just before it was time to leave for the train Monday morning, Rex and
Anne brought over their farewell gift.

"It's supposed to be like a steamer basket," Anne said, "only this is a
train basket. We figured on your being on the train for at least two days,
if you do happen to stop over in Washington."

Kit did not open it until they boarded the limited in Chicago and were
well on their way, speeding eastward. There was no sign of snow as yet,
but the land seemed to lie locked in a frosty grip of barrenness. The Dean
seemed to smile perpetually now. He occupied the lower part of the section
across the aisle, and Kit loved to watch him as he sat by the window, his
little black skullcap making him look like a portrait of an old-time
French savant. Every now and then he would glance up and meet her eyes
with a little smile of mutual understanding. It was as if they, to