s tone had a ring. Was it
satisfaction? And Rosalie's laugh was touched with gratification, for
the notes were official, inviting them, too, to become Platonians.

"Thinking it over," said Hattie, "I'll join; one owes something to
class-spirit."

"It's so alluring--the sound," said Rosalie. "A secret anything."

Miss MacLauren, thinking it over, herself, after she reached home that
day, suddenly laughed.

It was at dinner. Uncle Charlie looked up at his niece, whom he knew as
Emmy Lou, not, as yet, having met Miss MacLauren. He had heard her laugh
before, but not just that way; generally she had laughed because other
people laughed. Now she seemed to be doing it of herself. There is a
difference.

Emmy Lou was thinking of the changed point of view of Hattie and
Rosalie, "It's--it's funny--" she explained, in answer to Uncle
Charlie's look.

"No!" said Uncle Charlie. "And you see it? Well!"

What on earth was Uncle Charlie talking about?

"I congratulate you," he continued. "It will never be so hard again."

"What?" asked Emmy Lou.

"Anything," said Uncle Charlie.

What was he talking about?

"A sense of humour," said Uncle Charlie, as though one had spoken.

Emma Lou smiled absently. Some of Uncle Charlie's joking which she was
used to accepting as mystifying.

But it was funny about Rosalie and Hattie; she was smiling again, and
she felt patronisingly superior to them both.

Miss MacLauren was still feeling her superiority as she went to school
the next morning. It made her pleased with herself. It was a frosty
morning; she drew long breaths, she felt buoyant, and scarcely conscious
of the pavements under her feet.

At the corner she met William with another boy. She knew this other boy,
but that was all; he had never shown any disposition to have her know
him better. But this morning things were different. William and the
other boy joined her, William taking her books, while they all walked
along together.

Miss MacLauren felt the boy take a sidewise look at her. Something told
her she was looking well, and an intuitive consciousness that the boy,
stealing a look at her, thought so too, made Miss MacLauren look better.

[Illustration: "At the High School gate Miss MacLauren raised her eyes
again."]

Her spirits soared intoxicatingly. This was a new sensation. Miss
MacLauren did not know herself, the sound of her gay chatting and
laughter was strange in her ears. Perhaps it was an unexpected
r