and she was beginning to calm into something like sober
happiness when Ilga Barron appeared.

Ilga was short and plumpy, with pincushion legs, and feet that were
trained to dancing. The skirt of her dress was as brief as compatible
with fashion, and she swung it with a superior air which abashed the
meeker of her schoolmates. She greeted the new pupil with a nod and a
stare.

"What's your father's business?" was her abrupt inquiry.

"I haven't any father," Leonora answered gently.

"Oh! Where do you live?"

"On Edgewood Avenue."

"Up opposite Edgewood Park?"

"Yes."

"I thought that Mrs. Jocelyn hadn't any children," scowled Ilga.

"She has just adopted me," Leonora explained shyly.

"Oh!"

That was all, accompanied by a little toss of the head. Then Ilga
whirled away, calling on her favorite mate to follow.

Leonora's face grew distressfully red, and her soft eyes suddenly
brimmed.

For an instant Polly stood dazed; but quickly she commanded her
scattered wits.

"There's Lilith Brooks! I want you to know her, she is so sweet! Come,
Leonora!" She threw her arm around her friend, and drew her away from
the embarrassed group.

"You mustn't mind Ilga!" she whispered. "Nobody does!"

Yet all that morning the impertinence of Senator Barron's only
daughter occupied more of Polly's mind than her lessons, and at recess
her indignant thoughts sprang into words. She went straight to where
Ilga was entertaining two of her chosen intimates with chocolate
creams.

"What did you mean by treating Leonora so rudely?" demanded Polly,
threatening sparks in her usually gentle eyes. "She is my friend, and
I wish to tell you that you mustn't ever act like that to her again!"

Ilga's box of sweets stopped on its polite way to the new-comer.

"Huh!" sneered the owner of it, "if you think you are going to order
me round, you're mistaken! I guess I shan't associate with every
tramp that comes along--so there, Polly Dudley!"

"Leonora isn't any more of a tramp than you are!" Polly burst out
hotly.

"No, she isn't--'than _you_ are!'" retorted Ilga, with sarcastic
emphasis and a disagreeable laugh.

Polly's eye blazed. She clinched her little fists.

"And _you_ are too contemptible to--talk with!" she cried scornfully,
and whirled away.

But Ilga's instant rejoinder seemed to retard her feet, for she was
conscious of walking slowly, missing none of the words that bit into
her sensitive heart.

"Oh! I am, am I?