"And that I shall always love you the best of anybody." "Oh, Daisy, that is a sort of sacred thing to say. How can anyone tell----" "I don't mean lovers or husbands, and you haven't any parents or sisters. Just here in the school--you will love me the best because I love you so. That is the highest claim." "I will love you the best," Helen said almost solemnly. Then a strange awesome feeling thrilled through Helen, and she wondered if it was right to promise away one's freedom, even in so simple a matter as loving a schoolmate. "Oh, you dear, dear girl! Go to sleep and dream of me." CHAPTER XIV AND THORNS SPRANG UP School work began in great earnest. There was no loitering now. The girls who went in the A grade would be seniors next year, and the A grade of seniors would graduate. Helen took up French with a vim. Mrs. Van Dorn spoke of it particularly in her letter, and she had the right to order what Helen should do. The girl never thought of any mental protest. Then there were all the other classes. A conscientious girl was kept pretty busy. Helen was in the sketching class, Daisy was painting and did it well. Miss Craven began also, and evinced a decided genius for it. She was still quiet and reserved. She made no especial demands upon Helen, but the younger girl found many little ways to assure her of an interest. Just a clasp of the hand, a glance of the eye, a smile, and Miss Craven was comforted for hours. She tried to draw her into general conversation at the table, she said nice things to other girls about her and endeavored to interest them. Oh, if Miss Craven only would come out of her shell and say some of the really bright things she did when they were alone! It was hard work Helen found; a sort of weight at times affected her own spontaneity. With all the study there was a good deal of fun, sometimes almost fighting when arguments ran high, or when one's favorite writer or poem or story was assailed. Some of the girls insisted that Miss Reid had the most genius for painting, and others were on Miss Bigelow's side. Miss Gertrude Aldred would not be trapped into a decision, though many a plot was laid for her. Helen thought now and then of Mr. Warfield. She did so want to write to him. She could not, at least she did not say to Mrs. Dayton the many things she felt puzzled over, that even Mrs. Aldred could not have understood, for Mrs. Aldred had never seen her home and knew so little about her past life. And, oh, the planning that went on, the different pursuits that were discussed, the aims and hopes, yet it is true that most of them turned on marriage. Nearly every girl was confident that this would be her portion.