s what was the trouble. But, Harold,
it was so perfectly glorious out I had to--I just had to! I tell you,
every bit of me was tingling to go! Now what do you suppose Miss Hart
knows of a feeling like that? She simply couldn't understand it."

"But--Miss Hart doesn't look very old--to me."

Genevieve stopped short, and turned half around.

"Old! Why, she's a _teacher_, Harold!"

Harold chuckled, as they started forward again.

"I should like to see some teachers' faces if they could hear you say
'teacher' in that tone of voice, young lady!"

"Pooh! I reckon it would take considerable to make me think of any
teacher as _young_," retorted Genevieve, with emphasis.

"All right; but--aren't you coming out, later, for a walk or--or
something?" asked Harold, a little anxiously, as they reached the
Kennedy driveway.

She shook her head.

"No, little boy," she answered, with mock cheerfulness. "I'm going to
practise, then I'm going to study my algebra, then I'm going to study my
Latin, then I'm going to study my French, then I'm going to study my
English history, then--"

"_Good-by!_" laughed Harold, clapping his hands to his ears, and
hurrying away.

Unhesitating as was Genevieve's assertion of her intentions, those
intentions were not carried out, even to the practising, first on the
list; for, in putting down her books, Genevieve dropped some loose
papers to the floor. The papers were some that had that day been
returned by Miss Hart; and, as the girl gathered them up now, a sheet of
note paper, covered with handwriting entirely different from her own,
attracted her attention.

She recognized the writing at once as that of Miss Hart, and she
supposed at first that the paper must contain some special suggestions
or criticisms in regard to her own work. With a quick frown, therefore,
she began to read it.

She had not read five lines before she knew that the paper did not
contain criticism or suggestions. But so dazed, so surprised, and so
absorbed was she, by that time, that she quite forgot that she was
reading something most certainly never meant for her eyes to see.

The paper was evidently the second sheet of a letter. The writing--fine,
but plain--began close to the top of the first page, in what was
apparently the middle of a sentence.

"speak freely, I am sure.

"Things are not getting any better, but rather
worse. I cannot seem to win them. Of course I
unde