ll have it ready to give you when we go into chapel. I shall have
something. Do not fear."

Scarcely had the door closed upon the caller, when Hester was at her
study-table with pencil and writing-pad. Inspiration had seized her. She
would write a poem that would be worthy the name. It would appear in the
"Mirror" with her name below, "Hester Alden." On second thought, decided
to write it Hester Palmer Alden. The Palmer gave an added dignity to
her name. How pleased Aunt Debby would be! What a pleasure it would be
to write! Perhaps in time she might be editor-in-chief. Then when she
left school--at that instant a part of Hester Alden which had been
dormant awoke. The desire for expression came to her. What beautiful
glorious things she would write--some day! Just what they would be or
when she would write them, she knew not. But they were so beautiful that
the tears came to her eyes as she dreamed of them.

Helen did not come back to her rooms until barely time to dress for
dinner. She found Hester with her head on the table, and a huge tablet
before her.

"Sick, little roommate?" asked Helen, bending over her.

"No; I have been writing a poem--that is, I have begun to write one. I
have sat here for an hour and all I have written is the first line. It
was easy."

"First lines usually are," said Helen smiling. In many ways, she was
more years older than Hester than the calendar gave her credit for.

"What is the first line? May I read it?"

"'Doc Dixon had a Freshman Class.' It begins fairly well; but you will
startle your leaders with such a sudden burst into facts. Why not lead
up to the subject and break the news gently?"

"You may all ridicule; but I intend writing a poem. All the ridicule you
cast upon me will make me but the more determined."

"I believe that. I have observed that trait on several occasions. You
make me think of Rob Vail in that way."

"I shall finish after dinner," was Hester's sole comment. "I presume I
had better prepare for it now. Are you wearing a silk dress?" she asked
as she turned toward Helen and saw that she was getting into a little
one-piece suit of checked silk instead of her customary white.

"Yes, mother thinks I dress too thinly. If I wear the white I cannot
wear long sleeves. So I have promised to keep to this dark silk, though
I do not like it nearly so well."

She had slipped into her dress and was looking about for her pins and
rings. "I had a little old pin on my