Entirely unconscious of herself, Betty did not realize that she was not taking any part in the “light” conversation, and it was a shock when Miss Price said, in a somewhat mincing tone: “We want you to join in our chat, Miss McGuire. Suppose you tell us how you spent your Christmas day.” Straightforwardly Betty said: “We spent our Christmas day in New York, at the Plaza Hotel.” No sooner had she said this than she saw, by the expressions on the girls’ faces, she had made a mistake. “How interesting!” said Miss Price; but it suddenly flashed on Betty that they all thought her remark ostentatious, and that it was, in some way, inexcusable to spend Christmas day away from one’s home. She couldn’t help looking distressed, for there was not a trace of ostentation in her whole nature, and her enjoyment of her wealth was merely in the simple pleasures that it brought her, without thought of vanity or pride in the possession of it. Never before had she been accused of this, nor was she now, in words, but there was no doubting the meaning of the looks directed at her. Miss Price tactfully changed the subject, but Betty made no more contributions to the “light” conversation of that dinner. The hour in the drawing-room that followed was worse still. Had Betty only known it, her experience was not so very different from that of any new pupil at a strange school; for of course those who have known each other in previous terms naturally get together to talk over their vacation, and new-comers are left to be taken into favor later, if they qualify for it. But Betty didn’t know this, and she felt it a personal slight that nobody talked to her and nobody seemed responsive if she opened a conversation. Madeleine stayed by her side, but the more Betty talked with her, the more she was convinced she didn’t like her. “And it’s most ungrateful of me,” thought poor Betty to herself, “for she’s the only one who has shown me decent friendliness, so she is.” At last it was bedtime, and the girls filed out of the room, saying good night to Miss Frelinghuysen as they passed. “Hold your hand a little higher,” she said to Betty, “and your head just a trifle to one side,—so.” Betty imitated the model, alas, only too well! So anxious was she to do as she was told, that her attitude was an exaggeration of the principal’s; indeed, it seemed a mockery, though nothing was farther from Betty’s intention. The girls behind her giggled outright, which didn’t speak very well for their innate good breeding. Miss Frelinghuysen turned scarlet, and said: “Report to me in my study to-morrow morning at ten, Miss McGuire. Good night.” “Good night,” said Betty, all unaware of what she had done wrong. “Oh, Elizabeth, you were killing!” declared Madeleine, when they reached their room. “But how dared you do it?” She went off in peals of subdued laughter, only pausing at Betty’s amazed, “What _do_ you mean?”