stinguished that numbers of girls turned to ask,
"Who's that pretty Virginian with Jo?"

It _was_ a thrilling evening. Indeed, it is to be doubted whether
bona-fide balls of later years would ever bring such thrills and such
intoxicating happiness to the Pierrots and Pierrettes, gypsies and
Arabs, Spanish dancers and flower girls, Elizabethan ladies and
cavaliers, Red Cross nurses and college dons, Indian chiefs and squaws,
cowboys and "habitant" girls, who were so thoroughly enjoying
themselves.

Judith laughed and danced away her blues, and to all the compliments
paid her was glad to be able to say with honest admiration, "Oh, _I_
couldn't do it--Josephine did--isn't she just _wonderful_?"

And when, after "the loveliest party ever," Judith tucked up in bed and
her thoughts ran to the absent mother, instead of tears she smiled
happily and whispered, "What a _lot_ of nice people there are in the
world, mummy, dear--I've got an awful lot to learn--but I'm going to try
_hard_ to be unselfish and kind like Josephine and Nancy."

CHAPTER IV

A SUPPER PARTY

"OH, goody!" Judith heard Nancy saying, "isn't it splendid that it came
on Friday! We never have anything but buns and milk after a Friday night
lecture. Your mother is an _angel_, Sally May; she must have guessed
that this was going to be a Friday without a party."

"That you, Judy?" came in Sally May's pretty voice; "come on in." And
Judith was soon seated on Sally May's couch.

The crew of the "Jolly Susan" were invited, she learned, to partake of
an elegant cold collation consisting of roast chicken, meringues, cakes,
candies, etc., etc., which Sally May's mother was thoughtfully sending
them from a caterer in town.

"Have you asked Miss Marlowe if we may have the small sitting-room?"
asked Nancy after Judith had been informed of the feast awaiting her.

"Asked--Miss Marlowe?" gasped Sally May; "well, of all the queer
schools! Ask a teacher if we may have a midnight supper? Well, I reckon
_not_!"

"Why, that's the way we do," returned Nancy; "the lecture will be over
early and then we'll go up to the sitting-room and have our feed."

"Oh, that," said Sally May, "is ridiculous and no fun at all. Why, at
Knowlton Manor we always waited until twelve o'clock, at least, and had
our feasts in the loveliest places. Once we had supper in the cellar,
and the engineer caught us and we had a terrible time bribing him; and
last June, at Miss Gray's school