r to see me at my best."

"I think she did. You were all that could be expected of a girl. The
Sphinx itself, could not have been more outwardly calm. I fancy Miss
Watson went away in admiration of your self-control. If I remember, I was
the only one who appeared to disadvantage."

There was a trace of bitterness in the girl's voice, for in spite of her
effort to forget, the hurt of that evening still rankled within her.

"Now, Elizabeth, please do not speak in that tone. I was sorry for my
words that evening the moment I spoke. But I am hasty. I try my best to
keep quiet when I'm angry; but now and then I express myself before I
realize it. You can't expect perfection in anyone. A quick temper is my
besetting sin. I try to overcome it; but until I do my friends must bear
with me. No one is perfection."

"Indeed," was the reply, "I'm rather surprised that you hold such an
opinion. From the way you spoke that evening, I could not have judged you
to be so liberal."

Miss Wilson knew her words were wasted. With a quick, impulsive movement
she crossed the room to where Elizabeth stood, and throwing her arms about
her, cried out, "You must not talk like that, Elizabeth. You are not
naturally sarcastic. Let me be the disagreeable one--if one there must
be."

She drew Elizabeth's head down, kissing her warmly. It was impossible to
be vexed long with such a whole-souled, impulsive girl as Miss Wilson.
Elizabeth smiled and relented. From that time matters between the two
moved smoothly as at first; but Elizabeth did not relax her vigilance. She
realized how others might be inconvenienced and mortified by her
carelessness. From an economical point of view, too, it was better to
reform; for she had lost much time, and been tardy at class frequently on
account of having to hunt for some needed article.

This week proved to be one of the most eventful of Elizabeth's school
year. She did not plan to go home for Thanksgiving. The Saturday previous
she received a box from her mother. It was filled with all the good things
a mother's heart could devise and a cook's skillful hands make ready. Miss
Wilson carried the news of the arrival of the box to Elizabeth.

"The expressman's on his way up with an immense box," she cried, tossing
back her hair, and talking as excitedly as though Exeter Hall were
governed by a Board of Starvation.

Elizabeth hurried to the door. The expressman was already there, with
about as much as he could