ps, an extra spark of dry humor in her pale eyes.

Molly was a little thin. She always "fell-off" after a
ninety-eight-in-the-shade summer; but she was the same old Molly to her
friends, possessed with an indescribable charm and sweetness: the
"nameless charm," it had been called, but there were many who could name
it as being a certain kindly gentleness and unselfishness.

"What's the news, girls?" she demanded, giving a general all-round smile
like that of a famous orator, which seemed to be meant for everybody at
once and no one in particular.

"News is scarce; or should I say 'are'?" replied Margaret. "Epimenides
Antinous Green, 'the handsomest man ever seen,' was offered a chair in
one of the big colleges and refused."

"But why?" cried Molly, round-eyed with amazement.

"Because he has more liberty at Wellington and more time to devote to
his writings."

Molly walked over to the window to hide a smile.

"The comic opera," she thought.

"He's just published a book, you know, on the 'Elizabethan Drama,'" went
on Margaret, "which is to be used as a text book in lots of private
schools. And he's been on a walking trip through England this summer
with George Theodore----"

"How did you know all that?" interrupted Judy.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I came up to Wellington on the train with
Andy McLean and he answered all the questions I asked him," replied
Margaret, laughing. "I also answered all the questions he asked me about
a particular young lady----"

Nance pretended to be very busy at this moment with the contents of her
work bag. The other girls began laughing and she looked up, disclosing
a scarlet countenance.

"Don't you know she never could take a teasing?" cried Judy.

"Who's teasing?" answered Margaret. "No names were mentioned."

"Don't you mind, Nance, dear," said Molly, always tender-hearted when it
came to teasing. "The rest of us haven't had one 'inquiring friend,' as
Ca'line, our cook, used to call them. When I wrote letters for her to
her family in Georgia, she always finished up with 'Now, Miss Molly,
jes' end with love to all inquirin' friends.'"

The dainty little French clock on the mantel, one of Nance's new
possessions, tinkled five times in a subdued, fairy chime and the
friends scattered to their various rooms to unpack. Judy was now in
Frances Andrews' old room, next to the one occupied by Molly and Nance.

"I think I'll take a gimlet and bore a hole through the wall,"