up. Dr. Helen will be here pretty
soon, and Polly Osgood and Dot Winthrop are coming over to see us. I'd
put on that white poplin skirt and the waist with the blue butterfly bow
at your throat. You look awfully fetching in that. Yes, Catherine, I'm
coming," and she flew out, tossing a kiss to Frieda.

In her excitement she had spoken in English, and the compliment was
quite lost on Frieda who had not yet learned the meaning of "fetching."
That young person's sulks were not dissipated by the call, accordingly,
and there is no telling what depths of obstinate misery she might have
reached, had not Karl's parcel fallen to the floor and called attention
to itself. With a manner which suggested to her mirror that life was
distinctly not worth while, Frieda lifted the object and drearily
removed the wrappings.

From a small carved frame Karl's clear honest face looked out at her,
and a card in the corner read--in German--"Remember the compact,
Comrade!"

Like a flash brightness came back to Frieda's face. Good cheer was much
more natural to her than moroseness. From the face in the picture she
turned her gaze to the tousled reflection in the mirror. "The Fatherland
is not much honored by such a representative!" she said, and began
taking down her hair with a fine energy.

In the living-room downstairs teacups were clinking, and girls' voices,
subdued and sweet, mingled with laughter. Hannah, her back to the door,
was talking merrily to Dot, to whom she had taken an instantaneous
liking; Catherine bent anxiously over the tea-tray on the wicker table
in the window when Polly, from the comfortable depths of a low chair,
looked up and saw on the landing of the stairs a picture that made her
catch her breath.

Frieda, in a pale pink mull gown, with roses in her long soft sash, her
yellow braids wound into a garland around her head, her cheeks burning
with shyness, and her big eyes looking wistful and sweet, stood waiting.
Polly sprang up with a soft little "O!" Catherine, looking up, smiled a
welcome, but Polly went forward and taking Frieda's hands in both of
hers, said eagerly: "We've been waiting and waiting for you, Frieda."

Dot was introduced, but her usual self-possession promptly deserted her.
"I always feel as though I ought to shout to a foreigner," she had
confessed to Hannah, "and in order not to do that, I just have to keep
still." Catherine, who had felt a little rebuffed by Frieda's chilly
manner at the stati