le
would have been ashamed to ignore her, and Ruth would not have gone had
Ann not been asked.

To tell the truth Ann was hungry for the girls to like her for
herself--for some attribute of character which she honestly possessed. She
had never had to think of such things before. In her western home it had
never crossed her mind whether people liked her, or not. Everybody about
Silver Ranch had been uniformly kind to her.

Belle's holiday party was to be made up of the eight girls in the two
quartette rooms, with Madge Steele, the senior; Madge's brother, Bobbins,
Tom Cameron, little Busy Izzy Phelps, and Belle's own brothers.

"Of course, we've got to have the boys," declared Helen. "No fun without
them."

Mercy had tried to beg off at first; then she had agreed to go, if she
could take half a trunkful of books with her.

Briarwood girls were as busy as bees in June during these last few days of
the first half. The second half was broken by the Easter vacation and most
of the real hard work in study came before Christmas.

There was going to be a school play after Christmas, and the parts were
given out before the holidays. Helen was going to play and Ruth to sing.
It did seem to Ann as though every girl was happy and busy but herself.

The last day of the term was in sight. There was to be the usual
entertainment and a dance at night. The hall had to be trimmed with greens
and those girls--of the junior and senior classes--who could, were
appointed to help gather the decorations.

"I don't want to go," objected Ann.

"Goosie!" cried Helen. "Of course you do. It will be fun."

"Not for me," returned the ranch girl, grimly. "Do you see who is going to
head the party? That Mitchell girl. She's always nasty to me."

"Be nasty to her!" snapped Mercy, from her corner.

"Now, Mercy!" begged Ruth, shaking a finger at the lame girl.

"I wouldn't mind what Mitchell says or does," sniffed The Fox.

"Fibber!" exclaimed Mercy.

"I never tell lies, Miss," said Mary Cox, tossing her head.

"Humph!" ejaculated the somewhat spiteful Mercy, "do you call yourself a
female George Washington?"

"No. Marthy Washington," laughed Heavy.

"Only her husband couldn't lie," declared Mercy. "And at that, they say
that somebody wished to change the epitaph on his tomb to read: 'Here lies
George Washington--for the first time!'"

"Everybody is tempted to tell a fib some time," sighed Helen.

"And falls, too," exclaimed Mercy.