good-bye, and shaken hands with Ruth. But
the girls, looking out of the open door of the coach, saw him descend
from the step into the midst of a group of solemn-faced boys who had
only held back out of politeness to the girls whom Tom escorted.

Helen and Ruth, stifling their amusement, heard and saw poor Tom put
through a much more severe examination than the other boys, for the
very reason that he had come dressed in his uniform. He was forced to
endure a searching inquiry regarding his upbringing and private
affairs, right within the delighted hearing of the wickedly giggling
girls. And then a tall fellow started to put him through the manual of
arms.

Poor Tom was all at sea in that, and the youth, with gravity, declared
that he was insulting the uniform by his ignorance and caused him to
remove his coat and turn it inside out; and so Helen and Ruth saw him
marched away with his stern escort, in a most ridiculous red flannel
garment (the lining of the coat) which made him conspicuous from every
barrack window and, indeed, from every part of the academy hill.

"Oh, dear me!" sighed Helen, wiping her eyes and almost sobbing after
her laughter. "And Tommy thought he would escape any form of hazing!
He wasn't so cute as he thought he was."

But Ruth suddenly became serious. "Suppose we are greeted in any such
way at Briarwood?" she exclaimed. "I believe some girls are horrid.
They have hazing in some girls' schools, I've read. Of course, it
won't hurt us, Helen----"

"It'll be just fun, I think!" cried the enthusiastic Helen and then she
stopped with an explosive "Oh!"

There was being helped into the coach by the roughly dressed and
bewhiskered driver, the little, doll-like, foreign woman whom they
thought had been left behind at Portageton.

"There ye air, Ma'mzell!" this old fellow said. "An' here's yer
bag--an' yer umbrella--an' yer parcel. All there, be ye? Wal, wal,
wal! So I got two more gals fer Briarwood; hev I?"

He was a jovial, rough old fellow, with a wind-blown face and beard and
hair enough to make his head look to be as big as a bushel basket. He
was dressed in a long, faded "duster" over his other nondescript
garments, and his battered hat was after the shape of those worn by
Grand Army men. He limped, too, and was slow in his movements and
deliberate in his speech.

"I s'pose ye _be_ goin' ter Briarwood, gals?" he added, curiously.

"Yes," replied Ruth.

"Where's yer baggag