e? Never,--why?
Because you can't spare the money. Now at least we shall be able to go
to the moving picture shows and take Grandmamma. I bet you'd enjoy it,
wouldn't you, Grandmamma? And, do you know, the best people go, and a
quarter is the highest priced seat."

The girl chatted on until the postman delivered the mail.

"Oh! a letter from Kate. Let's see what news she has written," and she
gave a gasp as she read the first page.

"Poor Mrs. Casey died Saturday from pneumonia. Nora is heartbroken, and
poor Pat Casey acts as though he knew not which way to turn. Nora looks
really refined in black,--almost handsome. She loved Mrs. Casey, who in
spite of her peculiarities was a good wife and mother. Later: Mr. Casey
wishes to take Nora away. He suggested New York, so you may see her,
etc."

Then Ethel described Honora.

"It is strange but I can never like that girl. There's something about
her that's antagonistic to me, and yet when she comes here I must be
polite and ask her to visit me."

"If she's in mourning she'll not expect to meet people," said Mrs.
Hollister quickly, "nor to go to any places of amusement, thank heavens."

"Oh, she's very generous. Probably she'd invite us, Mamma. Well, poor
Nora, she loved her mother. I'm sorry for her."

CHAPTER II

ETHEL ENTERS COLLEGE

The next morning Ethel Hollister walked up to Barnard and put in her
application for admittance. The following week upon her first examination
she failed, but she entered the class with conditions. The girl studied
hard and soon made good.

She liked the girls of her class. They were intelligent, athletic, and
agreeable.

Her former friends and companions from La Rue's declared that of
late--in fact, since she had become a Camp Fire Girl--Ethel Hollister
had developed fads. This Barnard was one. But as Ethel kept on
steadily progressing in college, and she was so very young--not yet
seventeen--people began to consider her a girl of great ability and
intelligence. Mrs. Hollister grew to be proud of hearing her praised
on every side and Archibald seemed less worried over money matters.
She was rather glad that things had changed. Perhaps it was all for
the best, and people would respect them no less.

Grandmother never wearied of hearing her grandchild tell of her visit.
"And to think," she'd say, "that Susan has had all the trouble she tells
of and has made no sign. How gladly would I have helped her. Still, had
I done s