everywhere credited, that their mother had been a
Spanish-American heiress, disinherited by her family for marrying a
Protestant. Such a romantic and picturesque element had never before
entered the lives of the Washington Street school-children. Once
a bold and insensitive little girl, itching to know more of this
story-book history, had broken the silence about Mrs. Fingal and had
asked Camilla bluntly, "Say, who _was_ your mother, anyway?" The
question had been received by Camilla with whitening lips and a
desperate silence--ended by a sudden loud burst of sobs, which tore
Sylvia's heart. "You mean, horrid thing!" she cried to the inquisitor.
"Her mother isn't dead a year yet! Camilla can't bear to talk about
her!"

Once in a great while Mr. Fingal was visible,--a bald, middle-aged man
with a white, sad face, and eyes that never smiled, although his lips
often did when he saw the clusters of admiring children hanging about
his daughters.

Judith held aloof from these gatherings at the Fingal house, her
prejudice against the girls never weakening, although Cecile as well
as Camilla had won over almost all the other girls of her grade.
Judith showed the self-contained indifference which it was her habit
to feel about matters which did not deeply stir her, and made no
further attempts to analyze or even to voice her animosity beyond
saying once, when asked to go with them on a drive, that she didn't
like their "meechin' ways,"--a vigorous New England phrase which she
had picked up from her mother.

* * * * *

About a month after the Fingal girls entered school, the project of a
picnic took form among the girls of the Fifth A grade. One of them had
an uncle who lived three or four miles from town on a farm which was
passed by the inter-urban trolley line, and he had sent word that
the children could, if they liked, picnic in his maple woods, which
overhung the brown waters of the Piquota river. There was to be no
recess that day in Five A, and the grade was to be dismissed half an
hour earlier than usual, so that the girls could go out on the trolley
in time to get the supper ready. The farmer was to bring them back by
moonlight in his hay-wagon.

The prospect seemed ideal. Five A hummed with excitement and
importance as the various provisions were allotted to the different
girls and the plans talked over. Sylvia was to bring bananas enough
for the crowd; one of the German-American g