her out.

But Dolly didn't smile. She was a queer nature, was Dolly. Usually sunny
and happy-hearted, she liked almost everything and everybody, but if she
did take a dislike, it became a prejudice, and very hard to remove.

Dolly was pretty, with the bluest of blue eyes and the pinkest of pink
cheeks and the yellowest of yellow hair. She was inclined to be plump,
and Trudy was always beseeching her not to eat so much candy and sweet
desserts. But Dolly loved these things and had small concern about her
increasing weight. She didn't care much for outdoor play, and would
rather sit in the hammock and read a story-book than run after tennis
balls.

Her mother called her a dreamer, and often came upon her, sitting in the
twilight, her thoughts far away in a fairyland of her own imagination,
enjoying wonderful adventures and thrilling scenes.

Dolly was in the grammar school and next year would be in the high
school. She didn't like study, particularly, except history and
literature, but she studied conscientiously and always knew her lessons.

This morning, she kissed her mother good-bye, and started off for
school. She wore a blue and white gingham, and a fawn-coloured coat.
Swinging her bag of books, she marched past the Rose house, and though
she didn't look at her, she could see the Rose girl on the front steps.

"I wonder if she'll go to our school," thought Dolly; and for a moment
the impulse seized her to stop and "scrape acquaintance." Then she
remembered that shaking head, and fearing a rebuff, she walked on by.

"Do you know that new girl next door to you?" Celia Ferris asked her as
she entered the school yard.

"No; do you?" and Dolly looked indifferent.

"No, I don't; but my mother knows a lady, who knows them and she says
Dorothy,--that's her name,--is a wonder."

"A wonder! How?"

"Oh, she's so smart and so clever, and she can do everything so well."

This was enough for Dolly Fayre. To think that disagreeable new
neighbour of hers, must be a paragon of all the virtues!

But Dolly was never unjust. She knew she had no real reason to dislike
Dorothy Rose, so she only said, "I haven't met her yet. My mother is
going to call there this week, and then I s'pose I'll get acquainted
with her."

"How funny," said Celia, who was chummy by nature. "I should think you'd
go in and play with her without waiting for your mother to call,--and
all that. Anybody'd think you were as old as Trudy."

"Oh, I co