mber, and never failed to caution the head girl
not to overstudy.

"There's no fear of that, Mrs. Gray," replied Miriam boastfully. "My
lessons give me very little trouble."

"Mrs. Gray," broke in Nora O'Malley mischievously, "Miriam Nesbit has a
close second in the class. The first girl who has ever been known to
come up to her."

Miriam flushed, half-angry and half-pleased at the adroit compliment.

"And who may that be, my dear?" queried Mrs. Gray, searching about the
room with her nearsighted blue eyes.

"It's Anne Pierson" replied Nora.

"Pierson, Pierson?" repeated the little old lady. "Why have I not met
her? I do not seem to remember the name in Oakdale. But where is this
wonderful young woman who is outstripping our brilliant Miriam? I feel a
great curiosity to see her."

"Anne Pierson, Anne Pierson!" called several voices, while Grace began
to search through the rooms and hall.

At the first mention of her name Anne had darted from her seat behind
the lemonade bowl, and rushed to the nearest shelter, which was the
conservatory.

Grace found her, at last, in the conservatory crouched behind a palm.

"Come here, you foolish child!" exclaimed Grace. "You are wanted at
once. Why did you run and hide? Mrs. Gray--the great Mrs. Gray--wishes
to meet you. Think of that!"

Anne clasped the girl's strong hand with her two small ones.

"Oh, Grace," she whispered, "won't you excuse me? I--I----"

"You what? Silly, come right along!"

Grace fairly dragged the trembling little figure into the drawing room,
where a silence had fallen over the group of young girls who watched the
scene.

"Tut, tut, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray gently. "You mustn't be afraid
of me. I'm the most harmless old woman in the world."

Then she tried to get a glimpse of Anne's downcast, crimson face.

"I wanted particularly to meet you, child," went on Mrs. Gray, "because
I hear you are a formidable rival of the best pupil in the freshman
class. That is a great boast for your friends to make for you, my dear.
Miriam Nesbit is a famously smart girl, I'm told. But I wanted to meet
you, too, because you bear the name I love best in the world."

Here the old lady's voice became very soft, and the girls suddenly
remembered that the young daughter had been called Anne. Was there not a
memorial window, in the chapel of the High School, of an angel carrying
a lily and underneath an inscription familiar to them all: "In Memory of
Anne