er. A big lump was in her throat, and two tears sprang to her
eyes; but still she tried to say, "Never mind; oh, never mind."

Just at that moment a voice sounded in her ear. She turned and saw a
face rosy with blushes.

"I didn't know," began the voice, hesitatingly--"I thought you might
like--anyway, I am Bessie Merriam."

Cassy looked out shyly from under her lashes. "I am Cassy Deane," said
she.

"You're a new girl," continued Bessie, more boldly, "so I had to speak
first. Would you like to play, 'I spy'?"

Cassy sprang up eagerly, then drew back. "I wish I could," she
stammered, "but my shoes--and father's only middling, so I don't like to
ask for more."

"Of course not," broke in Bessie, who, though puzzled to know what it
was to be "middling," was sure there was something wrong about the
shoes. "Of course not; but maybe you know 'jack-stones'?"

In a twinkling she brought five marbles from the depth of her pocket,
and the two were deep in the mysteries of "horses in the stall," "Johnny
over," "peas in the pot," and all the rest of that fascinating game.

One person having spoken to the forlorn stranger, two more appeared on
the scene. It is always so. These girls wanted Bessie and her new friend
for "hop-scotch," but Bessie interfered before there was any chance for
embarrassment.

"We can't leave this game," said she, decidedly.

"How could she think to speak so quickly?" thought Cassy. "I should have
felt so bad to explain about my shoes!"

It was the very next morning that Bessie Merriam came to school with a
mysterious bundle under her arm. She took Cassy by the hand, and led
her--where? Why, into the coal closet!

"It's so very private here," explained Bessie. "And, do you know, it's
no fun to play romping games in these good boots of mine; so I hunted up
an old pair. And, do you think, I stumbled on these old ones too. Would
you mind using one pair? You _won't_ think me impertinent, will you?"

Bessie was quite out of breath, and gazing at Cassy with wide-open,
pleading eyes.

Those boots fitted to a T. Cassy could jump and run to her heart's
content. Jump and run she did, for at recess Bessie drew her into the
midst of the other girls, and such a game of "I spy" Cassy had never
imagined. Nobody said a word about her droll gown. "She is _my_ friend,"
Bessie had announced, and that was enough.

Marion Van Dysk gave her two bites of her pickled lime. Lillie Downs
"remembered" her, and did n