n the South. Madeleine has two more years
here. I shall go to Paris next year for a course at the Sorbonne, so
that I shall be up in French by the time we are ready to start."

Molly was almost too amazed over the change Madeleine had wrought in
Judith to comment politely on the glowing future Judith mapped out for
herself. She recalled how Judith had once insulted the little Southern
girl at a Sophomore ball, and she remembered how Madeleine had said: "I
shall make a friend of her, yet. You'll see."

"I wish I could make plans and stick to them," Molly thought. "How can I
ever get anywhere when I don't even know where I want to get? If I am
not to teach school, then what am I to do?"

Many times a day Molly asked herself this question. There were times
during the summer when she heard the call still infinitely far away to
write, and on hot afternoons when the others were napping she would
steal down to the big cool parlor with a pencil and pad. Here in the
quiet of the darkened room, with strained mind and thoughts on tiptoe
for inspiration, she would try to write, but the stories were crude and
childish. Sometimes she would read over Professor Green's letter of
advice about writing. "Be as simple and natural as if you were writing a
letter," he had said, and her efforts to be natural and simple were
invariably elaborately studied and self-conscious.

"I don't see why I want to do what I can't do," she would cry with
despair in her heart, and then the next day perhaps she would try it
again.

So it was that Molly had a feeling of unrest that was quite new to her.
It was like entertaining a stranger within the gates to admit this
unfamiliar spirit into her mind. And now, as she parted with Judith
with a friendly handclasp, she felt the dissatisfaction more keenly than
ever before.

Her errand in the village that afternoon was really to call on Mrs.
Murphy, who, you will recall, was once housekeeper for Queen's. For many
months the good soul had been laid up with rheumatism and for the sake
of old times the Queen's girls plied her with attentions. The Murphys
now lived in a small cottage near the depot and they were exceedingly
poor, since the office of baggage-master brought in only a small pay.
But Mrs. Murphy, crippled as she was, her fingers knotted at the joints
like the limbs of old apple trees, managed to keep her rooms shining
with neatness.

"And it's glad I am to see you, Miss," exclaimed the good woman