n store for her, and
all--sometimes scorched Nancy Nelson's mind like a devouring flame. She
kept a deal of it to herself; it was making her a morose, secretive
girl, instead of the open-hearted, frank character she was meant to be.
Nancy's future as a girl and woman was in peril.

She scarcely believed that the name she was known by was her own. Some
time before she had begun to refer to herself as "Miss Nobody from
Nowhere." It was continually on her mind.

So Miss Trigg's suggestion about the monogram was not entirely
satisfactory to Nancy. It is all right to have brave thoughts about
doing great deeds in the future; but--supposing there _is_ no future?

That's the way it looked to Nancy Nelson. June was approaching and all
the other girls of the graduating class were exchanging stories of what
they were to do, where they were to go, and all about their future
lives. But Nancy couldn't tell a single thing that was going to happen
to her after breakfast the day following graduation.

Of course, Miss Prentice was not bound to keep her a minute longer than
her contract called for. Nothing had been said by the lawyer in whose
hands Nancy's fate seemed to be, regarding his future intentions. He had
acknowledged the school principal's last letter at Easter, and that was
all.

A girl who has spent all her days--almost--in a boarding school must of
necessity possess some small amount of independence, at least. Although
very young, Nancy felt perfectly able to start out into the world alone
and make her way.

Just _how_ she should earn her living she did not know. But she had read
story books. Sometimes girls of her age were able to help housewives do
their work, or help take care of little children, or even be
parcel-wrappers in big city stores.

Of course she could not remain at the school. There would be nothing for
her to do here. And Miss Prentice carried her pupils no farther than the
grammar grades.

Some of the other girls would begin in the autumn at other and more
famous schools--college preparatory schools, and the like. Nancy loved
books, and she hoped for a college education, too; dimly, in some way,
she hoped to find means of preparing for college. But how? That was the
problem.

One noon, as Nancy filed into the long, cool dining room, Miss Prentice,
who often stood at the door to review the girls as they filed before
her, tapped Nancy on the shoulder.

"My room after luncheon, Miss Nancy," said th