ted out all the candidates for the highest class except
three. One was the senior president, pink and white and slender and
gentle and she never thumped when she walked or laughed with her mouth
open or was careless about spots on her clothes or forgot the faces of
new girls who had been introduced to her. The second was a professor who
was shy and sweet and went off lecturing every week. The third was a
teacher who looked like a piece of porcelain and always wore silk-lined
skirts and never changed the shape of her sleeves year after year. Not
one of the three ever hurt anybody's feelings.

Miss Anglin was obliged to go into the second class because she had
moods. No, I don't mean because she had them,--for sometimes you cannot
help having moods, you know--but because she showed them. She let the
moods influence her manner. Some mornings she would come down to
breakfast as blue as my dyed brilliantine--(how I hated that frock!)--and
would sit through the meal without opening her mouth except to put
something into it; though on such occasions we noticed that she rarely
put into it very much besides toast and hot water. On other days she made
jokes and sparkled and laughed with her head bent down, and was so
absolutely and utterly charming that the girls at the other tables wished
they sat at ours, I can tell you. We three were exceedingly fond of her,
but we agreed at last after arguing for seven days that true courtesy
makes a person act cheerfully and considerately, no matter how she may
feel inside.

There were about nine in that second class, and fourteen in the third and
twenty in the fourth, when we started in on Mary Winchester.

Lila and I were rushing to get ready for the last skating carnival of the
season. Some one knocked at the door. It was Mary, but she didn't turn
the knob when I called, "Come." She just waited outside and gave me the
trouble of opening it myself. Then in her offish way she asked if we were
through with her lexicon. After I had hunted it up for her, she happened
to notice that Lila was wailing over the disappearance of her skates.

"I saw a pair of strange skates in my room," she said and walked away as
indifferent as you please.

Now wouldn't any one think that was queer?

It made Lila cross, especially when she found that the skates had three
new spots of rust on them. March is an irritable month, anyhow, you know.
Everybody is tired, and breakfast doesn't taste very good. She sput