“I have a letter from your Aunt Knickerbocker and another from your mother, and before I reply I would like a little visit and talk with you. Suppose we take our Sunday evening lunch together in my rooms.” And with a kind look, Miss Randolph went on her way, leaving Cathalina. “Somebody is terribly intimate with ‘Ellen,’” said one of the girls who did not like Miss Randolph and now included in her displeasure “that stuck up Van Buskirk girl”. Hilary, who happened to be near, replied, “Her aunt is a friend of Miss Randolph’s.” Cathalina just then joined Hilary and with a group of girls they wandered out to the porch seats. “Does Miss Randolph teach anything?” inquired Hilary. “No,” one of the older girls replied. “She did a year or so ago, but was too busy and gave it up. She taught History of Art and was a perfectly grand teacher, the girls say.” “I’m scared to death every time she looks at me!” said Isabel Hunt, who perched on the balustrade and swung one nervous foot. “I wonder if my hair is frowzy or the button I sewed on my waist matches, or the one I didn’t sew on will be missed. I’m sure she can see clear through me!” “Why how funny!” exclaimed Cathalina. “I never thought of it.” “That is because you are always as neat as a pin.” “I wish I ‘wuz,’” and Cathalina laughed as she thought of various hurried occasions when she had longed for Etta. “Hilary, I’m wrongfully accused! Come to the rescue!” Hilary made big eyes and said in a stage whisper, “Never reveal it,—but Miss Buskirk was known to rush off to early class one morning with a great tear in her petticoat, pinned for a yard around,—more or less!” “Fie, fie!” cried Isabel. “I feel better!” “And you ought to have seen her, Isabel, when she came back from her first ride on old Poky! You wouldn’t think Poky’s going could jolt anybody, would you?” “She galloped awfully,” interrupted Cathalina, while the girls laughed. “Cathalina did not have a hairpin or a ribbon left! Her hat was over one ear, her hair flying—well, I will spare her the rest! Ever there was a girl in distress she was it!” “Well, I _was_ in distress. That old riding teacher showed everybody how but me!” “He probably thought that anybody on Poky didn’t need any showing.” “Hilary, how you do rub it in!” said Isabel, reaching over to pat Cathalina, who was not minding it at all. “She appealed to me!” urged Hilary in self-defense. “That was the way my oldest brother taught me to swim,” Isabel continued. “He took me out to where I couldn’t stand and began to be floated off,—’n when I was yellin’—‘Jimmy, take me out,’ the wretch swam off with ‘strike out, Izzy’!” “O, my,” gasped Avalon, “what did you do?” “Well, you see I’m here,” and Isabel grinned at Avalon, who looked sheepish. “Putty!” said one of the girls. “I happen to know that Isabel had been practicing for a month and could float anyway. All she needed was confidence in herself.” “Don’t spoil a good story,” said Isabel.