dn't even that consolation.

Ida was a third-year student at the Clifton Academy; she had holidays,
and nowhere, so she mournfully affirmed, to spend them. At home three
brothers and a sister were down with the measles, and, as Ida had
never had them, she could not go there; and the news had come too late
for her to make any other arrangements.

Mary and Josie were clerks in a Clifton bookstore, and Sara was
stenographer in a Clifton lawyer's office. And they were all jolly
and thoughtless and very fond of one another.

"This will be the first New Year's I have ever spent away from home,"
sighed Sara, nibbling chocolate fudge. "It does make me so blue to
think of it. And not even a holiday--I'll have to go to work just the
same. Now Ida here, she doesn't really need sympathy. She has
holidays--a whole fortnight--and nothing to do but enjoy them."

"Holidays are dismal things when you've nowhere to holiday," said Ida
mournfully. "The time drags horribly. But never mind, girls, I've a
plummy bit of news for you. I'd a letter from Mother today and, bless
the dear woman, she is sending me a cake--a New Year's cake--a great
big, spicy, mellow, delicious fruit cake. It will be along tomorrow
and, girls, we'll celebrate when it comes. I've asked everybody in the
house up to my room for New Year's Eve, and we'll have a royal good
time."

"How splendid!" said Mary. "There's nothing I like more than a slice
of real countrified home-made fruit cake, where they don't scrimp on
eggs or butter or raisins. You'll give me a good big piece, won't you,
Ida?"

"As much as you can eat," promised Ida. "I can warrant Mother's fruit
cake. Yes, we'll have a jamboree. Miss Monroe has promised to come in
too. She says she has a weakness for fruit cake."

"Oh!" breathed all the girls. Miss Monroe was their idol, whom they
had to be content to worship at a distance as a general thing. She was
a clever journalist, who worked on a paper, and was reputed to be
writing a book. The girls felt they were highly privileged to be
boarding in the same house, and counted that day lost on which they
did not receive a businesslike nod or an absent-minded smile from Miss
Monroe. If she ever had time to speak to one of them about the
weather, that fortunate one put on airs for a week. And now to think
that she had actually promised to drop into Ida's room on New Year's
Eve and eat fruit cake!

"There goes that funny little namesake of yours, Ida," said