any of the little crowds, nor mingles in
the fun."

"Well, she's of the severe order and is going to college. I'm glad I
don't have to go; if I did it would be purely for fun. I'm in for all
the good times I can possibly get."

How odd it was that so few girls really cared for knowledge! Of course,
the fun was exhilarating, the sharpening of wits made one bright. Roxy
Mays was an expert at twisting and turning and repartee, and making the
worse seem the better reason. Some of it was amusing. But to magnify any
trifling thing into a part of one's character, to give hard judgment on
the shape of one's features or the expression of one's eyes and mouth,
seemed hardly fair to Helen.

She wondered sometimes if one could grow beautiful on high and noble
thoughts? One felt broader and better at heart by giving a more generous
allowance. She soon found that Roxy had a bad fault, and all the girls
in her set condoned it easily, while several of them grumbled about it
to each other. She was always borrowing little articles and seldom
returned them. "I'll take your pencil a moment," she would say. "I'll
just run over this book," and you had to go after your book. It was
thread and needles, buttons of various kinds, even to a shirtwaist set,
and if one button or pin came up missing she was very sorry and would be
sure to replace it when she went down town. Borrowing money was against
the rules. There had once been a disagreeable trouble in the school
about this matter, and now Mrs. Aldred kept a bank for any girl that had
run ahead of her allowance, from which she was at liberty to borrow.
Running up an account in the town was also forbidden.

How soon Christmas came! It fell on Saturday. Some of the girls were
going home, several to visit friends or relatives, and those who
remained were given a holiday. Miss Lane was to go; Madame Meran on
Monday; Miss Gertrude was to have the week in New York. None of the
other teachers resided in the house.

Thursday night there fell a real snow. The others had been beautiful
attempts that had melted away in the next sunshine. Friday morning was
dull and gray, without a breath of air. The roofs wore white hoods or
blankets, the trees absolutely stood still, ermined to their finger
ends, someone said. But at ten the somber clouds began to give way,
growing thinner and thinner, and one spot rather to the south suddenly
became glorified with silvery touches, then golden and azure, and the
wo