ked, sparkling-eyed girls, bubbling over with fun and
vitality. He had just come up from the queer little cabin in which he
lived at the edge of the lake. It was part of his work to supervise the
coasting and, as far as possible, keep it free from accident.

About his sole diversion was playing on a key bugle, and the
long-drawn-out notes of the instrument, sometimes lively and sometimes
in a minor strain, were familiar sounds to the girls, and often an
occasion of jesting.

Professor Krenner held the bugle in his hand now, and after glancing at
his watch, he raised the instrument to his lips and blew a clear call
that had the effect of hastening the steps of some of the groups that
were coming toward the hill from the Hall, the roof of which could be
seen over the tops of the trees.

Outdoor sports were made much of at Lakeview Hall, not only in the
catalogue designed for the perusal of parents, but in actual fact. "A
sound mind in a sound body" was Dr. Beulah Prescott's aim for her
pupils, and exercise was as obligatory as lessons. None was excused
without an adequate reason, and the group upon the hill grew in numbers
until it seemed as though all the members of the school were present
except the smaller girls, who had a slide of their own.

"All here except the queen," remarked Laura, as she looked around her.

"The queen?" repeated Bess Harley, staring at her.

"Queen Linda of Chicago," explained Laura, with a wicked twinkle in her
eye.

"For goodness' sake, don't ever let Linda Riggs hear you say anything
like that, Laura Polk," admonished Bess. "She's so conceited that she
wouldn't know it was sarcasm. She'd think it was a tribute drawn from an
unwilling admirer."

"I know," laughed Laura. "It doesn't take much to set her up. If she had
water on the brain, she'd think she was the whole ocean."

"Here she comes now," remarked Nan, after the laughter caused by Laura's
sally had subsided.

A tall girl, wearing expensive furs and having a supercilious air, came
along with two or three companions. It was noticeable that she left to
them the work of drawing the bobsled, while she sauntered along,
ostentatiously adjusting her furs as though she sought to call attention
to their quality.

"Hurry up, Linda," called out Laura. "I believe you'd be late at your
own funeral."

"I never get anywhere early," snapped Linda. "It isn't good form. When I
go to the theater I always get in late. I always have the best