g, you
know."

Genevieve scowled, and made an impatient gesture--neither of which Mrs.
Kennedy seemed to notice.

"You have your watch, I see," she went on serenely; "so I don't think
you'll forget."

Genevieve bit her lip. She threw a hurried glance into Mrs. Kennedy's
face; but that, too, Mrs. Kennedy did not appear to notice.

"No, Aunt Julia," said Genevieve, a little constrainedly, as she went to
saddle her horse, "I sha'n't--forget."

When quite by herself around the corner of the house, she drew a long
breath.

"Sometimes," she muttered fiercely behind her teeth, "sometimes I--I
just wish folks _weren't_ so good to me! Seems to me I just _can't_
waste a whole hour of this tiny little bit of glorious day that is left,
practising a stupid old 'one, two--one, two--one, two!'" Then, with
apparent irrelevance, she patted her blue-and-gold chatelaine watch
remorsefully--and it may be noted right here that she came back in ample
time for her hour of practising before supper.

There was a new boy at school the next morning. This fact in itself did
not particularly interest the Happy Hexagons until they learned his
name. It was "O. B. J. Holmes." When the initials did not seem quite to
satisfy Miss Hart, he hesitated visibly, then said, with a very painful
blush, that the "O" might be put down "Oliver." It was plainly on the
teacher's tongue to ask about the other letters; but, after a moment's
hesitation, she passed over the matter, and turned to something else.

As usual the Happy Hexagons found themselves together at recess time,
and as was natural, perhaps, the subject of the new boy came up for
discussion.

"I don't believe 'Oliver' is ever his name," declared Tilly, stoutly.
"No sane youth in his right mind would blush so beautifully over just
'Oliver.' Besides, he didn't _say_ it was Oliver."

[Illustration: "'HOW DO YOU DO, MR. OLIVER HOLMES,' SHE BEGAN"]

"I saw Miss Hart talking to him as I came out just now," announced
Bertha, "and his face was even redder than ever. Hers was getting red,
too."

"Then there _is_ something," cried Genevieve, excitedly, "and it's a
mystery. I love mysteries! 'O. B. J.'--what a really funny set of
letters!"

"Must be 'Oliver Ben Johnson,'" laughed Bertha.

"Sounds to me like 'O Be Joyful,'" giggled Tilly.

"Sh-h!--Tilly!" warned Cordelia, in a horrified whisper. "He's coming.
He'll hear you!"

But Tilly was not to be silenced. Tilly, for some reason, felt
re