Miss Parkhurst brought the books they were needing from the library, and Carin taking hers, sighed happily: “Isn’t it beautiful to be here by ourselves—just the three of us? No one else would fall into our way of doing. How nice it is of you, Miss Parkhurst, to let us follow up whatever idea we’re interested in, and to help us learn all we can about that subject, instead of making us dash from one thing to another, till we haven’t a notion what we are trying to learn. I’d never get anywhere, studying in the old-fashioned way, jumping from subject to subject, and having to wait for a whole class of stupid creatures to come tagging along.” “But you might be the stupid one, you know, Carin,” smiled Miss Parkhurst. “I’m afraid it doesn’t do to go around the world supposing yourself to be the cleverest one.” Carin shrugged her pretty shoulders. “I don’t think that,” she said. “I always think Azalea the cleverest one. I’m only saying that we three understand each other, and that we don’t have to spend half our time explaining, and that we’re just as contented together as mortals can be.” And just then the door opened and Mrs. Carson came into the room. Her face had lost something of the look of transparency it had worn when she first came to Lee, when she had been fresh from a terrible sorrow, but it was still pale and strangely tender to Azalea’s admiring eyes. “I do hope you’ll excuse me, Miss Parkhurst,” she said in her soft voice, “for breaking into the study hour. But I’ve something important to talk over, and so I’ve come while all the members of the academy are together.” She shook hands with Azalea as she spoke, and patted Carin caressingly on the shoulder. “I’ve come,” she went on, “to talk to you about taking in another girl.” “Another girl!” cried Carin in dismay. “What girl, please, mamma?” She had sprung to her feet, and stood before her mother with the color sweeping over her face; but Azalea, keeping her thoughts to herself, grew paler, and pinched the edge of the table in her effort to keep the tears of vexation and disappointment from coming to her eyes. Another girl! And this perfect possession of Carin would be taken from her, and there’d be, as Carin put it, need to “explain” all of the time. How could Mrs. Carson spoil such a perfect thing as their association there? Who else would love to study, and to write, and paint and sing the way they did? Who else would make a game out of it all, and long to get to the schoolroom in the morning and hate to leave at night?