s doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the
massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls. In her
circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously
housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H.
Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in
the very room where her mother or grandmother before her had fleeted the
time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of
the Bishop hospitality.

Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study
hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the
spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief. At
present Mrs. Graham's pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new
arrival at the Whittredges'.

The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of
romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs.
Whittredge to live. Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly
treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty
Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like
other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection
with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will.

Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days' absence, found
herself unusually popular. Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she
had seen her; it was even said she had heard her speak. Excitement grew
as the news spread.

The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and
talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious
greeting.

Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight
plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little
abashed at the attention she excited.

"What is she like, Katherine? tell us--the new girl at the Whittredges'."

"She is standing at the gate now," answered Katherine, looking over her
shoulder.

"Is she? Oh, where?"

"Let's walk by and see her."

"We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps
they will drive past."

"Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way."

"What are you staring at?" demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle
was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to
be smooth like Kather