y never could get Arabella's name correctly. Sometimes it was
"Carbale," then it was "_Corbille_," but never once had she managed to
call it Correyville.

"Well, the cat is in the kitchen now, and you must look out for her.
Keep her in for a few days until she feels that this is home, and then
she will stay," Miss Fenler said, and returned to her account-books.

Thursday the two girls were in their room all day, reading, and
devouring a "treat" that Patricia had smuggled in. It was much the same
menu that Patricia usually chose, without a thought as to how the
different things would combine.

Who but Patricia Levine would ever think of eating ice-cream, and big
green pickles at the same time?

The reason that she would have given for eating them at the same time
would have been that she liked both.

They ate the papers of ice-cream first before it could melt, and then,
each took a huge green pickle, and a favorite book, and settled down to
read.

When the lunch hour arrived, Patricia felt a bit "queer," while
Arabella felt decidedly "queerer."

Neither cared to eat, but they dared not stay away from the dining-room,
so both went down to the table, but they made only a pretense of eating.

Early in the afternoon both felt hungry. Patricia rushed to the closet,
and returned with some chocolate eclaires, and a bottle of olives.

"I'll eat an eclaire," said Arabella, "but maybe I'd better not eat
olives with it."

"Well, of all things!" cried Patricia. "Let me tell you what you don't
know. Eclaires and olives just _b'long_ together. Don't act funny,
Arabella."

Arabella, always afraid of being laughed at, ate not only one eclaire,
but two, and a dozen olives, as well.

During the afternoon, they ate four crullers, two pickled limes, two
ham sandwiches, and a pound of fudge.

Patricia could eat anything, and any amount of food without any ill
effect, but Arabella was really sick when the hour for dinner arrived.

When Mrs. Marvin questioned Patricia, she said that Arabella had a
headache, and that she had said that she was not hungry.

Mrs. Marvin sent a waitress up to their room with some toast and tea for
Arabella. Arabella barely tasted it, and the girl returned to report
that Miss Arabella looked sick, and really could not eat.

The next day found her much like her usual self, and Patricia proposed a
walk.

"I'll go with you in a minute," said Arabella.

"What _are_ you waiting for?" snapped Patric