ge, and they are sure to be friends."

"Aha! had it all planned out, did you, little sly-boots?" laughed the
woman, gently pinching the flushing cheek of the embarrassed Carrie.
"There, dear, I was just teasing. I want to please all my girls, but
sometimes I have to disappoint them a little. Mercedes will room with
Bertha Peck who was here last year, and Tabitha we will try with
Chrystobel Clayton. Come now, and I will show you your rooms. Bertha is
here already, but Chrystobel has not arrived. Carrie, you have the same
room you had last year, and little Cassandra is busy decorating it
now--a labor of love, dear."

Up the wide, polished stairs she led them, and along the corridor, on
either side of which were several doors, most of them closed, but
through the two or three standing ajar Tabitha's bright eyes caught
glimpses of merry-faced girls in the midst of an interesting clutter of
open trunks, over-loaded beds and bureau drawers, and her quick ears
heard snatches of rollicking music or the buzz of gay conversation.

"This is your room, Tabitha. Mercedes is your next-door neighbor, and
Carrie is just across the hall. Go in and make yourself at home. Bertha,
come welcome your room-mate."

A tall, fair-haired girl rose from the low rocker by the window, and
came quickly forward, saying cordially, "Mercedes, I am glad you have
come. I have been here three days and am beginning to be homesick. Isn't
that a state of affairs? You don't look a bit as I thought you would.
Has your trunk arrived yet? And this is Tabitha, our little kitty? You
certainly must be our mascot. Your room-mate isn't here yet, so you can
help yourself to whichever bed and closet hooks and bureau drawers you
want. There really isn't any difference in the size of them, but it is
supposed to be a great thing to have first choice."

While the older girl talked she drew Mercedes inside the room, divested
her of hat and satchel, jerked out the empty drawers of the dresser, and
threw open the tiny closet door with such a hospitable air that the
homesick child of the desert felt cheered and comforted at once, and
Tabitha found herself wishing it had been her lot to share Bertha's
room.

It was lonely all by herself in the room that seemed bare in spite of
its pretty furnishings, for nothing familiar greeted her eyes, and its
unadorned walls looked quite depressing in their spotless creamy white.
Carrie had disappeared, and Miss Pomeroy's steps were de