irls with renewed interest.

The tall one--the Montgomery girl--was very richly dressed, and she
seemed to think a good deal of what she wore. She was always arranging
her gown, and looking in the glass to see if her hat was on
straight--and occasionally Nancy caught her powdering her nose.

There was a black-haired girl, too, with very sharp eyes and a lean
face, who laughed whenever the Montgomery girl said anything supposed to
be funny, and seemed to ape the Senator's daughter in other ways, too.
The other girls called her "Cora."

Once Nancy went forward to get a drink of water. She passed the group of
her future schoolmates slowly, hoping that some of them would speak to
her. But none did, and when she came back down the aisle, the tall girl
eyed her with disdain.

Nancy flushed and hurried by; but not too quickly to hear the Montgomery
girl say:

"Trying to butt in, I guess."

The girl called Cora laughed shrilly.

"I guess I'm not going to like _those_ girls," sighed Nancy. And then
she shivered as she thought of how mean they might be if they ever found
out that she was "Miss Nobody from Nowhere."

The rain began to slant across the open fields and trace a pattern upon
the broad, thick, glass beside her so that she could no longer see out.
Besides, it was growing dark early.

The train passed through towns that seemed all gloomy, smoky brick
buildings, or shanties clinging like goats to the sides of high bluffs.
A pall of dun vapor hung over these towns, and the lonely Nancy was glad
when the train did not stop.

Sometimes they dashed into a tunnel, and a cloud of stifling smoke
wrapped the cars about and the cinders rattled against the ventilators
and roof.

On and on swept the train, and at last the brakeman, as they left one
station, announced:

"Next stop Clintondale!"

Nancy began to gather her things together and put on her coat long
before the train slowed down. Then the other girls got ready leisurely,
still chatting.

The rain beat harder against the window. It was after seven o'clock.
They passed a block-tower with its lights and semaphore. Then the
grinding brakes warned her that her destination was at hand.

The end of the wet platform flashed into view. There were dazzling
lights, rumbling hand-trucks, and people running about.

As she came to the door of the car--she did not go out by the one
chosen by the Senator's daughter and her friends--the roar of voices
burst upon her e