and had the excitement of witnessing the return of the second and third
year girls, whose manner was strikingly different from that of the
modest Freshers. Dinner that evening was more of an ordeal than ever,
with a galaxy of such assured, not to say aggressive, young women,
staring with all their eyes at their new companions, and, to judge from
the expressions on their faces, forming the meanest opinion of their
intelligence!

Hannah Vernon was of all the Freshers the least upset by their scrutiny,
but then plain Hannah was proverbially thick-skinned about the opinion
of others.

"Let 'em stare if it amuses 'em--_I_ don't mind! Long time since I've
been so much admired," she returned composedly to Darsie's indignant
whisper. "Every dog has its day. Wait till it's _our_ turn! I'll wear
specs for that day--if I never do again, and glare over them like our
friend in green. I've been taking notes, and her glare is worth all the
rest put together. I feel sure she sees into my pocket, and knows
exactly how much there is in my purse. Perhaps she's jealous of you.
You're the prettiest girl here--old or new!"

"Oh, am I? _Nice_!" cried Darsie, dimpling. She peered around the
tables, examining the faces of the girls within sight with an appraising
eye, compared them with the reflection which looked back at her out of
her own mirror, and felt an agreeable sense of conviction. There was
one slim, dark-eyed girl with a bright rose flush on her cheeks, as to
whose claim she felt a moment's uncertainty, but when she turned her
head--lo, a nose was revealed soaring so unbecomingly skyward that
Darsie breathed again. Yes! she was the prettiest. Now if she could
just manage to be the most popular also, and, not the cleverest, of
course--that was _too_ much to expect--but well in the front rank, how
agreeable it would be, to be sure!

The dining-hall looked much more cheery tonight, when the long table was
surrounded by over sixty students in their brightly coloured dresses;
the buzz of conversation rose steadily throughout the meal, and by the
time that coffee was served curiosity seemed satisfied, for the staring
had come to an end.

"I think you must be Dan Vernon's sister. May I introduce myself? I am
Helen Ross." A tall girl, with brown hair brushed low over her ears,
stood beside Hannah's chair, holding out her hand with an air of
assurance which plainly intimated that the mention of her name was
expected to