o the
point of persecuting a poor little--"

"In my experience of school life," said Mrs. Trent judicially, "it is a
girl's own fault when she is persecuted. Their methods are crude, but to
the point. Keren is a hopeless little prig--"

"But at least you can't allow her to suffer--"

"Oh, no, I shall do what I can toward peace. To-morrow morning, Keren
can move in with Irene McCullough, and Patty and Conny and Priscilla go
back to their old rooms in the West Wing. You, Mademoiselle, are
somewhat inured--"

"I do not mind them together. They are just--what you
say?--exhilarating. It is when they are spread out that it is
difficult."

"You mean," Miss Lord stared--"that you are going to _reward_ their
disgraceful conduct? It is exactly what they have been working for."

"You must acknowledge," smiled the Dowager, "that they have worked hard.
Perseverance deserves success."

* * * * *

The next morning, Patty and Conny and Priscilla, their arms running over
with dresses and hats and sofa cushions, gaily two-stepped down the
length of "Paradise Alley" while a relieved school assisted at the
flitting. As they caught sight of Miss Lord hovering in the offing, they
broke into the chorus of a popular school song:

"We like to go to chapel
And listen to the preachers,
We are happy in our work,
And we dearly love our teachers.
Daughters of Saint Ur-su-la!"

II

The Romantic History of Cuthbert St. John

"The Dowager" had a very sensible theory that boarding-school girls
should be kept little girls, until their school life was over, and they
stepped out, fresh and eager and spontaneous, to greet the grown-up
world. Saint Ursula's was a cloister, in fact, as in name. The masculine
half of the human species was not supposed to count.

Sometimes a new girl was inclined to turn up her nose at the youthful
pastimes that contented her companions. But in the end she would be
drawn irresistibly into the current. She would learn to jump rope and
roll hoops; to participate in paper chases 'cross country; to skate and
coast and play hockey on winter afternoons, to enjoy molasses-candy
pulls and popcorn around the big open fire on Saturday nights, or
impromptu masquerades, when the school raided the trunks in the attic
for costumes. After a few weeks' time, the most spoiled little worldling
lost her consciousness of calls outsi