ding after dismissal, clothed, in lieu of
hats and jackets, with large importance. She had learned that they were
Platonians, and from the out-courts of the un-elect she had watched
them, in pairs and groups, mount the stairs with laughter and chatter
and covert backward glances. She did not wonder, she would have glanced
backward, too, for wherein lies the satisfaction of being elect, but in
a knowledge of the envy of those less privileged?

And mounting the stairs to the mansard, their door had shut upon the
Platonians; it was a secret society.

And now this door stood open to Miss MacLauren.

She took her note to Hattie and to Rosalie, who showed a polite but
somewhat forced interest.

"Of course if you have time for that sort of thing," said Hattie.

"As if there was not enough of school and learning, now, Emily," said
Rosalie.

Miss MacLauren felt disconcerted, the bubble of her elation seemed
pricked, until she began to think about it. Hattie and Rosalie were not
asked to become Platonians; did they make light of the honour because it
was not their honour?

Each seeks to be victor in some Field of Achievement, but each is
jealous of the other's Field. Hattie thought Rosalie frivolous, and
Rosalie scribbled notes under the nose of Hattie's brilliant
recitations. Miss MacLauren, on the neutral ground of a non-combatant,
was expected by each to furnish the admiration and applause.

Hattie's was the Field of Learning, and she stood, with obstacles trod
under heel, crowned with honours. Hattie meant to be valedictorian some
day, nor did Miss MacLauren doubt Hattie would be.

Rosalie's was a different Field. Hers was strewn with victims; victims
whose names were Boys.

It was Rosalie's Field, Miss MacLauren, in her heart, longed to enter.
But how did Rosalie do it? She raised her eyes and lowered them, and the
victims fell. But everyone could not be a Rosalie.

And Hattie looked pityingly upon Rosalie's way of life, and Rosalie
laughed lightly at Hattie.

Miss MacLauren admired Hattie, but, secretly, she envied Rosalie. If she
had known how, she herself would have much preferred Boys to Brains; one
is only a Minerva as second choice.

To be sure there was William. Oh, William! He is taken for granted, and
besides, Miss MacLauren is becoming sensitive because there was no one
but William.

The next day she was approached by Hattie and Rosalie, who each had a
note. They mentioned it casually, but Hattie'