ck braids over the slim
shoulders, and disappeared in crisp ribbon bows of the same color. The
dress was a simple affair of light blue wool, which fitted the wearer
perfectly and gave her the air of being more richly clad than some of
the girls whose frocks were of costlier material.

Polly came near giving too much attention to these interesting
details, but finally settled down to study in the contented belief
that she was "going to like" the girl with the familiar name. At
recess she would speak to her, and "get acquainted." For two hours
this was her fixed hope. Then, when the rest time came, before she
could make good her desire, she had the dissatisfaction of seeing the
new scholar walk away arm in arm with Ilga Barron, and she turned back
to her desk with sober eyes and regret in her heart.

"Isn't Patricia Illingworth lovely?" whispered a voice.

Polly looked up, to see Betty Thurston.

"Do you know her?" she questioned in surprise.

"Of course not," smiled Betty. "But I'm going to--if that hateful Ilga
Barron doesn't monopolize her all the tune."

"But how did you know what her name is?" persisted Polly.

"Oh!" explained Betty, "I was up at Gladys Osborne's Saturday,
spending the day, and Gladys's Aunt Julia was there there--she boards
at The Trowbridge, you know, and she told us all about the
Illingworths. They board there, too, Patricia and her mother. They
aren't stuck up a bit, though I guess they're awfully rich. They came
from 'way out West--I forget the name of the place. It's where
Patricia's father's got a mine. And she hasn't ever been to school
much, only studied with her mother, and rode horseback, and all that.
Aunt Julia said she was coming to our school, and I think she's
lovely; don't you?"

"Sweet as she can be!" agreed Polly.

"I know why Ilga pounced on her so quick," confided Betty. "I'll bet
she heard me telling Lilith and some of the other girls that she was
rich, and that's just why. We were down in the dressing-room before
school. If it hadn't been for her we could have got acquainted this
morning."

"Well, there are more days coming," laughed Polly philosophically.
"That's what mother always tells me, when I want to do a thing right
then, and can't."

The talk passed to other matters, yet the eyes of both girls followed
the new pupil as she and her companion strolled from room to room of
the little suite. Here and there they would pause for a few words with
some of Ilga's