“If I had not been on the porch, the maid would have brought you in with more ceremony,” she said, pleasantly. “I was really expecting you on that train, from what Mrs. Knickerbocker wrote. How is she? She has been a delightful friend to me.” Cathalina had expected to see an older lady of Aunt Katherine’s age; but this charming little lady could scarcely be ten years older than Cathalina’s own mother. A conversation followed, in which Mr. Van Buskirk supplemented the correspondence of the summer with further explanations of his plans for Cathalina. “I think you will find Cathalina obedient and helpful,” said he, “and we shall appreciate any hints that you can give her. Since her health is already so much improved by the summer’s outing, I think that she can soon be as busy as the rest.” “It will be a pleasure to have her here, I know. I am sorry that there are so few girls here today. Tomorrow and the next day will bring them.” “There were no girls at all on our train,” said Cathalina, who had been disappointed. Little as she had wanted to come, she was not without a natural curiosity as to her future companions. “I should be glad if the matter of a roommate could be arranged before you leave, Mr. Van Buskirk, but it may not be possible. The plans of the old girls are all made, so it must be a ‘new girl.’ I have in mind a few girls from homes of especial refinement, and I will use my best judgment for Cathalina. Now you will want to see her room.” In response to Miss Randolph’s ring there appeared a plump, rosy-cheeked girl whom Cathalina supposed to be a servant, though she was not in maid’s attire. “This is Alma Huntley, one of our girls, who helps me a great deal. Alma, please take Mr. Van Buskirk and his daughter to number fifty-two, second floor.” Through the big hall to the elevator, down another hall on the second floor, and they were ushered into a tiny suite of two rooms at the front of the building, its sitting room at the corner on the side toward the lake. “The girls call this Lakeview Corridor,” said Alma. Cathalina stepped to the window and looked off, through and across the treetops to the restless waters beyond. It did not seem much like home, and Cathalina’s eyes filled with tears. “A fine view for you, my child,” Mr. Van Buskirk remarked cheerfully, though it did seem too much like leaving his little girl behind. “Your mother will pay you a flying visit soon; did she tell you?” Mr. Van Buskirk had observed the tears. “No; will she really?” “Do you suppose she could stand it long not to see how you are placed? You must take some snap shots for her as soon as possible.” Alma looked interested, but Cathalina did not. Poor Mr. Van Buskirk had tried with varying success all day to suggest everything that might keep up Cathalina’s courage or interest her. He smiled a little now, remembering his efforts, successful at last, not to allow Sylvia to come with her daughter this time.