in a dream to Blue Bonnet. Two things,
however, stood out vividly in her memory: Annabel's program, which had
been brilliantly sung to an enthusiastic audience, and Miss North's last
talk to the girls in the living-room. Perhaps it was the glow of pride
on Uncle Cliff's face as she took her place at the piano to play
Annabel's accompaniments--the look of satisfaction on Aunt
Lucinda's--that stamped the afternoon so indelibly on her mind; perhaps
it was a little self satisfaction--for Blue Bonnet was altogether human.
At any rate, she felt sure that she would always recall the day with
happiness.

Miss North's talk had been helpful--her text inspiring. Blue Bonnet
copied the text in her memory book with many notations--all the
amplifications she could remember:

"The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.
Guard them accordingly."

Then there was the eventful afternoon when the Seniors took the straw
ride into the country and built a bonfire upon which to burn the books
they hated most. Blue Bonnet had helped Annabel select a much thumbed
Cicero (there had been some difficulty in choosing), longing with all
her heart for the day when her own Geometry could be added to the
funeral pyre.

The last day--in after years Blue Bonnet disliked to recall that last
day, it was so fraught with sadness--she had packed for Carita; helped
Mary Boyd; given Peggy a lift with her things, which were piled in an
indiscriminate heap for one big leap into a waiting trunk, and had put
her own clothes and belongings in readiness for the long journey to
Texas on the morrow. She had spent a half hour with Grandmother and Aunt
Lucinda, who were remaining in Boston to see her off. There had been a
visit to Mrs. White--she could not be forgotten, whatever else was left
undone. How often in lonely and discouraged moments Mrs. White had
filled the place almost of a mother. Blue Bonnet felt an unbounded
regard for her, as well as gratitude.

After all was done she wandered into Annabel's room for a last chat.
Others had been of the same mind evidently, for Sue was perched on
Annabel's trunk; Wee occupied a comfortable chair; Patty and Angela
squatted on the floor. It was a crowd whose drooping spirits even Wee
Watts failed to arouse.

Blue Bonnet sank down beside Patty and heaved a sigh. The room was bare
and gloomy. The Queen Louise, the china cat, the calendar under the
window, alone spoke of a past fading into obl