seat that
money can buy reserved for me, so what's the use of hurrying? Of course
it's different when one has to go early and scramble for a seat."

"That may be your habit in Chicago, but it isn't in favor here, Miss
Riggs," said Professor Krenner dryly. "But now that all seem to be here,
we'll start the races. You understand that all sleds are to keep three
minutes apart so as to avoid accident. The course is straight out on the
lake, and the best two out of three trials win the race. Miss Sherwood,
since you are nearest the starting line, suppose you get your sled in
position to lead off. Not so fast, Miss Riggs," he went on, as Linda
tried to shove her sled to the crest of the hill. "I said Miss Sherwood
was to go first."

"I don't see why I should have to wait," pouted Linda, as she
reluctantly drew back her sled before the decided look in the
professor's eye. "Hateful old thing," she remarked in a low voice to her
special friend and intimate, Cora Courtney. "He favors Sherwood because
she attends his poky old lectures on architectural drawing and pretends
she likes them."

"I shouldn't be surprised if that were just it," replied Cora, who made
a habit of agreeing with the rich friend whose friendship often proved
profitable to Cora. She had no money herself but clung closely to those
who had.

"Who was it," asked Rhoda Hammond in an amused whisper of Nan, "who
wrote an essay once on the 'gentle art of making enemies'?"

"I'm not sure," laughed Nan in reply, "but I think it was Whistler. Why
do you ask?"

"Because," replied Rhoda in the same low voice, "I think he must have
had Linda or somebody just like her in mind, for she has the art down to
perfection."

There would have been little dissent from Rhoda's verdict, for Linda had
few real friends among the girls of Lakeview Hall. She was purse-proud
and vulgar, and, though her money gave her a certain prestige among the
shallow and unthinking, she lacked the qualities of mind and heart to
endear herself to any one.

By this time the girls who were going with Nan had taken their places
on the sled. It was a new one that Nan had received as a present from
her father, and it had not yet been tested. Nan had named it the _Silver
Arrow_, and she had high hopes that its speed would justify the name.

Nan sat at the head, with the steering wheel in her hands. The wind had
brought the roses to her cheeks, and her clear eyes shone like stars.
Behind her in orde