race, but curiously enough Miss Gertrude leans toward Episcopacy, and
she plays some of the old masses in a way that almost sweeps you along
in her current. She is to be an artist. Last winter she was in New York
taking lessons, and she teaches painting, but we haven't a very artistic
lot of girls I think. Mr. Danforth is the clergyman here. You will like
him I guess. My people are Methodists. That is my church 'way down
below, but I often go there."

"Oh, let us get on to the stores," said one of the group. "Let me
see--there are five of us. I'll treat to-day, that will make us five
weeks going round. Only on Saturdays, mind."

They passed the bank, a very modest building with law offices on the
second floor. Then the Court House, which was quite imposing, and a row
of stores, larger and finer than those in Hope. An inviting ice-cream
parlor with a rustic garden at the side, divided into vine-covered
booths, claimed their attention, and they sauntered in, seating
themselves nonchalantly.

CHAPTER XI

SCHOOL IN EARNEST

On Monday the real work of school began. Besides the boarding scholars,
was a day-school of the young ladies and larger girls, who were either
sent away or went to Aldred House. There was an excellent school for the
little ones, and a very good public school, but Westchester did not take
cordially to this except for the boys.

Two of the teachers had arrived on Saturday evening. Madame Meran, the
French teacher, who also gave music lessons to the younger pupils, and
Miss Lane, who taught Latin and German to the few who desired it, and
had dreams of college life. Mrs. Aldred made no specialty of this, but
some of the pupils insisted on remaining until that time. There were two
divisions in the senior class, two in the junior. Helen was glad that
Daisy Bell was in the B. division. She was not as gay as Roxy Mays, but
there was a quality of tenderness in her that was very attractive.

She was not quite sure that she would desire to make a warm friend of
Miss Mays though on Friday evening her whole heart had gone out to her.
She could turn any subject into ridicule so easily, she could seize on
small foibles and distort them with such a winsome grace that they were
amusing at the time, but when one thought them over afterward one saw
the little stings that were left behind.

It was so different from anything Helen had dreamed of. At first she
thought she would have been happier going to the