her and took her books from her hand. It was Dick Albright. "Good
afternoon, Miss Brewster," he said formally.

"Good afternoon, _Mr_. Albright," said Sahwah in the same tone, her eyes
dancing in her head. Then she burst out, "Oh, Dick, won't you take us
coasting to-morrow night? This is positively the last snow of the
season."

"Sure," said Dick. "Take you to-night if you want to."

Sahwah shook her head. "'Strictly nothing doing,' to quote your own
elegant phrase," she said. "I've a German test on to-morrow morning, and
consequently have an engagement with my friend Wilhelm Tell to-night.
I've simply got to get above eighty-five in this test or go below
passing for the month. I got through last month without ever looking at
it, but it won't work again this month."

"How did you do it?" asked Dick.

"Why," answered Sahwah, "when it came to the test and we were asked to
tell the story of the book I simply wrote down, 'I can't tell you that
one, but I can tell another just as good,' and I did. Old Prof.
Fruehlingslied was so floored by my 'blooming cheek' that he passed me,
but he has had a watchful eye on me ever since." Dick laughed outright.

"I never saw anything like you," he said, swinging her books around in
his hand. The red heart fell out into the snow. Dick picked it up.
"Who's your friend?" he said, deliberately reading the name, and
immediately filled with jealous pangs. Dick liked Sahwah better than any
girl in school. Her irrepressible, fun--loving nature held him
fascinated. Sahwah liked Dick, too, but no better than she liked most of
the boys in the class. Sahwah was a poor hand to regard a boy as a
"beau." Boys were good things to skate with, or play ball or go rowing
with; they came in handy when there were heavy things to lift, and all
that; but in none of these things did one seem to have any advantage
over the others, so it was immaterial to her which one she had a good
time with. The good time was the main thing to her. Sahwah had a
fifteen--year--old brother, and she knew what a boy was under his white
collar and "boiled" shirt. There was no silly sentimentality in her
spicy make-up. She was a royal good companion when there was any fun
going on, but it was about as easy to "get soft" with her as with a
stone fence post. She was a master hand at ridicule and the boys knew
this and respected her accordingly. In spite of all this Dick's
admiration of her remained steadfast, and he would have a