shing. She was just in her treatment of others, generous
and kind, yet she never allowed herself to be imposed upon. With Hester,
she divided all things equally; neither giving nor keeping a larger
part. She was as just to herself as to others. She would have battled
royally before she would have given up one of her rights. Yet no one
imposed upon her; for there was that about her which instinctively fixed
the boundary line. It was not what she did or said, but what she _was_,
which caused her to find favor among the students.

During the first week, Helen and Hester spent their spare time in
arranging their rooms. It was really marvelous what could be done with
cretonne and dotted swiss. Hester had come prepared to do her part in
the furnishings. Debby Alden, acting upon Miss Richards's suggestion,
had selected for Hester, fancy covers, cushions and a few pictures.

Hester had not realized the importance of the accessories until the
"fixing up" fever was apparent. During the first week of school, the
conversation of the entire dormitory was concerning the arrangement of
their rooms. There were no calls made. The conventions of the hall
frowned upon one student calling upon another until that other had time
to put her rooms in livable condition.

Working together, Helen and Hester soon grew friendly. Before the week
had ended, Helen knew that Debby Alden was the most remarkable article
in the aunt line that the age had produced. She knew also that Hester
had neither sister nor brother; but she did not know that the name Alden
had been given her by courtesy rather than by right, or that Hester and
the beloved Aunt Debby held no ties of blood in common.

On the other hand, Hester learned that Helen was an only child; that she
had a cousin Robert Vail who was almost as a brother to her; that Robert
had neither brother nor sister, and that his mother, who was Helen's
Aunt Harriet, loved Helen and kept her at the Vail home as much as
possible.

"You would like Aunt Harriet," said Helen in one of the confidences. It
was Friday evening. The study hour had been short. The girls in kimonas
and with their hair in braids, sat in their sitting-room. As they
talked, they gave satisfied admiring glances about the room.

"Aunt Harriet is only forty, yet her hair is white. She had nervous
trouble and brain fever that caused her to become gray; but in other
ways she is like a girl. She is most unselfish. The girls in school love
h