ar?" asked the good woman.

"Oh, a very long, long time ago," sobbed Nancy. "I was too little to
remember--much."

"And you've missed 'em ever since--you've just been _honin'_ for a
mother, I know," said the woman, crooningly, and patting Nancy's
shoulder.

"There, there, child! It'll all be strange to you here for a while; but
when you can't stand it any more--when it does seem as though you'd
_got_ to be mothered--you come down to the lodge to Jessie Pease.
Remember, now! You will surely come?"

"I will," promised Nancy.

"Now wipe your eyes and laugh!" commanded Jessie Pease. "Why, Pinewood
Hall is the finest place in the world for girls--especially for those
that are like you. Here's a great, big family of sisters and cousins
ready waiting for you. Get acquainted!"

But that seemed easier said than done. Nancy was not by nature gloomy
nor reticent; but it was unfortunate that she had been paired with Cora
Rathmore.

From the very first day the black-eyed girl tried to make it as
unpleasant as possible for Nancy. Cora had plenty of acquaintances. They
were always running into the room. But Cora never introduced any to her
roommate.

Cora was one of those girls who have many, many decorations for her
room. Her dressing-case was stacked with photographs and all around and
above it the wall was decorated with banners, and funny or pretty
pictures, school pennants and the like.

On the other side of the room Nancy's wall and bureau were bare of any
adornment. Her toilet set had been selected by Miss Prentice and was
more useful than decorative. Nothing Nancy wore was frivolous. The other
girls therefore set her down as "odd."

"Why, she hasn't a single picture on her bureau," said one girl who was
visiting Cora. "Don't you suppose she has any folks?"

"Maybe they're so ugly they're afraid of breaking the camera if they
pose for a picture," giggled another light-minded girl.

"Well," drawled Belle Macdonald, who was one of Cora's sophomore
friends, "even an orphan usually has pictures of the folks she's lost.
And this Nelson girl hasn't told anything about herself; has she?"

"She hasn't told _me_, that's sure," snapped Cora. "She's a nobody, I
believe. I don't believe she belongs in this school with decent girls."

"Oh, Cora! what do you mean?" gasped one of her hearers.

"Well, Pinewood is supposed to be a school for well-connected girls. I
know _my_ mother would never have let me come had she suppose