re well it were done quickly,'" quoted Winifred, whose class
reading just then was "Macbeth"; and seizing the smaller girl whirled
merrily down the hall.

Five minutes later, with hats and jackets on, they joined the other
pupils out of doors. To Dorothy it seemed the beautiful grounds were
alive with all sorts and conditions of girls, pacing rapidly up and
down, "sprinting" to warm themselves against the chill of the coming
evening, playing tennis for the brief half-hour, or racing one another
from point to point. There were girls so many and so various, from
Seventh Form young ladies to the wee little Minims, that Dolly
wondered if she would ever know them all or feel herself a member of
the great company.

But Winifred gave her little time to gaze about her.

"Oh! don't bother with them now. Our way is that lower gate, and it's
a good bit of a distance, I hope you're a good walker."

"Pretty good, I reckon," answered Dolly falling into step with the
taller girl and hurrying forward at even a swifter pace.

"But, begging your pardon, that's no way. We Canadians learn
pedestrianism--whew! what a long word!--just as we learn our letters.
Begin very slowly at first. Then when your muscles are limbered, walk
faster--and faster--and faster! Till it seems as if your legs swing up
and down of their own accord, just like machines. It's wonderful then
how little you tire and how far you can go. Slack up a bit and I'll
show you."

Absorbed in this new lesson Dorothy scarcely noticed when they left
Oak Knowe limits and struck out along a country lane, with hedgerows
at either side; nor when having climbed a stile they set out across a
plowed field, till her feet grew heavy with the soil they gathered.

"Oh! dear! What mud! Why do you walk in it, Winifred?"

"It's the shortest road. Here's a stone. Stop a bit and scrape it
off--as I do. See?" answered the other, calmly illustrating her
advice.

"But I don't like it. My shoes will be ruined!" wailed Dolly who was
always finical about "dirt."

"Humph! Haven't you another pair? But they ought to be--such
flimsy-wimpsy affairs! Look at mine. A bit of mud more or less can't
hurt them and it's the boot-boy's business to clean them."

The English girl held forth a good sized foot clad in a still larger
shoe of calfskin, which though soiled with the clay had not absorbed
much of its moisture: while the finer affairs of Dorothy's were
already wet through, making her uncomfor