ibbon with which to do it up.

"I'm going to do as Miss Jane does, next year," sighed Genevieve, at
last.

"And what does Miss Jane do?" asked Tilly.

"Begins in January to get ready for Christmas. Now I've got exactly
seventy-nine and one things to do before next Tuesday--and to-day is
Thursday."

"You must have spent part of your valuable time counting them," teased
Tilly, "to have figured them down so fine as that."

"Seventy-nine and one are eighty," observed Cordelia, with a little
frown. "Why didn't you say eighty to begin with, Genevieve?"

"Because she wanted to give your brain something to do, too," explained
Tilly, wearing an exaggeratedly innocent air.

"Tilly!" scolded Genevieve. But Tilly only laughed, and Cordelia forgot
her question with the last stitch she put into her tassel.

The pillow was given to Miss Hart the next day, and, apparently, made
the lady very happy. Nor was Miss Hart the only one that was made happy
that day. Genevieve, and in fact, all the Happy Hexagons, together with
O. B. J. Holmes and nearly all the rest of the class, knew before night
that they had "passed"--which is no small thing to know, when for days
you have worried and for nights you have dreamed about the dreadful
alternative of a contrary verdict.

With Miss Jane Chick, Genevieve went to Boston shopping, Saturday,
coming back tired, but happy, and all aglow with the holiday rush and
color of the crowded streets and stores. On Sunday came the beautiful
Christmas service, which Mr. Wilson made very impressive. Certainly it
touched Genevieve's heart deeply, as she sat by Mrs. Kennedy's side and
listened to it. It seemed so easy to Genevieve, at that moment, always
to be good and brave and true--always to be thoughtful of others'
wishes--never to be heedless, careless, or impulsively reckless of
consequences!

It was snowing when she left the church, and it snowed hard all the
afternoon and until far into the night. Genevieve awoke to look out on a
spotlessly white, crystal-pure world, with every ugly line and dreary
prospect changed into fairylike beauty.

"Oh--oh--oh, isn't it lovely!" she exclaimed, as she came into the
dining-room that morning. "Don't I wish Quentina were here to see
it--and to talk about it!"

"We'll hope she will be some day," smiled Mrs. Kennedy.

"Anyhow, 'Here's Miss Jane at the window-pane' all ready for her,"
chanted Genevieve, merrily, her eyes on the tall figure in the bay
window.