this year, and you simply must
love it."

"Do you like to swim?" Rosamond demanded, and again Janet shook her
head.

What must these girls think of her! Why, she couldn't do anything.

"Skate?" some one else asked.

"No, I don't." Janet looked imploringly at Phyllis, but for once she
was looking at some one else. Only Sally noticed the look and she gave
no sign--then--

"What can you do?" It was Muriel who spoke and in spite of the angry
eyes that were turned toward her she managed to smile, but it wasn't a
pretty smile.

For a minute Janet's face flamed to a deep red, then as suddenly her
cheeks grew very white. There was a pathetic silence. She knew that
it would end soon, but before it ended she must answer or Phyllis would
be ashamed of her.

"I'm afraid I can't play any games," she said slowly; "you see, I never
went with girls and I never went to school."

"Did you go with boys then?" Muriel still smiled. She felt quite sure
that the answer would be "no."

"Why, yes, I did," Janet confessed, "and, you see, they liked to play
ball and to go sailing or canoeing,"--she thought of Peter Gibbs, and
the thought of him made the color come back to her cheeks--natural
color this time.

"We coasted a lot in the winter and then of course there was always
fishing," she finished lamely. How could she explain the hundred and
one things that went to make up her days in Old Chester?

"Oh, well, I suppose you will find it very strange here." It was a
chastened Muriel that spoke.

"Now, my Aunt Jane's poll parrot, I ask you, why under the sun should
she?" Sally broke the silence that followed angrily.

Eleanor laughed at Janet.

"Have you been properly introduced to Sally's Aunt Jane's poll parrot?"
she asked to change the subject.

"He's a very wise bird, and we all consult him when our own reason
fails,"--Rosamond took up the explanation.

"Sally consults him oftener than any of the rest of us, because you
see, Sally's reason fails her oftener. Excuse my breaking into the
conversation, but no one has had the manners to introduce me. My name
is Daphne Hillis, but no one ever calls me anything but Taffy on
account of my hair." It was a long speech, but the speaker took twice
as long as was necessary to say it; her slow drawl held a hint of
laughter, and her voice sounded warm and furry.

Janet looked at her and laughed without meaning to.

"How do you do," she said. "I'm awfully glad to know a