lf or basket-ball, she pokes in the house
and reads Dante in Italian. Imagine!"

"Why, she must be interesting!" said Patty, in surprise, and she turned
back to the themes.

"I think these are splendid!" she exclaimed.

"Sort of queer, I think," said Lady Clara. "But there's one that's
rather funny. It was read in class--about a peasant that lost his
donkey. I'll find it"; and she rummaged through the pile.

Patty read it soberly, and Lady Clara watched her with a shade of
disappointment.

"Don't you think it's pretty good?" she asked.

"Yes; I think it's one of the best things I ever read."

"You never even smiled!"

"My dear child, it isn't funny."

"Isn't funny! Why, the class simply roared over it."

Patty shrugged. "Your appreciation must have gratified Olivia. And here
it's February, and I've barely spoken to her."

The next afternoon Patty was strolling home from a recitation, when she
spied Olivia Copeland across the campus, headed for Pine Bluff and
evidently out for a solitary walk.

"Olivia Copeland, wait a moment," Patty called. "Are you going for a
walk? May I come too?" she asked, as she panted up behind.

Olivia assented with evident surprise, and Patty fell into step beside
her. "I just found out yesterday that you live in Sorrento, and I wanted
to talk to you. I was there myself once, and I think it's the most
glorious spot on earth."

Olivia's eyes shone. "Really?" she gasped. "Oh, I'm so glad!" And before
she knew it she was telling Patty the story of how she had come to
college to please her father, and how she loved Italy and hated America;
and what she did not tell about her loneliness and homesickness Patty
divined.

She realized that the girl _was_ remarkable, and she determined in the
future to take an interest in her and make her like college. But a
senior's life is busy and taken up with its own affairs, and for the
next week or two Patty saw little of the freshman beyond an occasional
chat in the corridors.

One evening she and Priscilla had returned late from a dinner in town,
to be confronted by a dark room and an empty match-safe.

"Wait a moment and I'll get some matches," said Patty; and she knocked
on a door across the corridor where a freshman lived with whom they had
a borrowing acquaintance. She found within her own freshman friends,
Lady Clara Vere de Vere and Emily Washburn. It was evident by the three
heads close together, and the hush that fell on the group